


The Runaways

by alice_time



Series: Wild at Heart [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Detective Derek Hale, M/M, Magic Stiles, Police Officer Derek Hale, Runaway, Shifters, Teen Wolf AU, Wolf Derek, delinquency, juvenile delinquent, magic Lydia, police force, supernatural mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice_time/pseuds/alice_time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Lydia ran away from Beacon Hills two years ago when a monster stalked through Beacon Hills and Lydia gained a power to see things, sense death. Stiles keeps her safe, and tries to keep her sane in the home they've made in a tenement in New York, a fortress against the darkness outside. Except they weren't the only ones who left two years ago. Jackson was with them for a year, and after another year of therapy reveals the trio were headed for New York.</p><p>Which is how Detective Derek Hale ended up mixed up in all of this. After all, Beacon Hills is his home town, he knows Sheriff Stilinski pretty well. He owes it to him to at least try to find his son. </p><p>What Derek doesn't know, is that Stiles has a power of his own and there's something out there in the dark hunting those kids. Someone. There's a reason Stiles hasn't gone home. The monster that killed those people is after him, and it won't stop until it gets what it came for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Graffiti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this fic, which is my second fic since I stopped writing fics...nearly ten years ago. It's a blast.

Amidst the graffitied walls of the alley, tucked behind a dented green dumpster full of Mr. Ling’s Dumplings was a scrawny teenager crouched down, the hood of his red sweatshirt pulled up over his head. He held a can of yellow spray paint in his hands, fingers and cuffs spattered with the paint. On the wall just across from him was a fresh bit of work, a bright yellow smiley face with x’s for eyes.

It stank of rotting food, gasoline and pollution with a touch of ozone as the sky threatened rain. The boy eyed his handiwork for a bit longer before pulling himself up and chucking the near-empty paint canister into the dumpster and shuffled out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. People were already pulling open their umbrellas as the first sprinkling of rain started to fall down.

The kid moved toward an awning as the skies opened up properly and hard rain started to fall. He sniffed loudly and tried to look as casual as he could while snagging wallets from passerby. After a few good grabs he slunk back into the alley to toss the wallets, keeping only the cash inside, and taking back streets home.

Home was a tenement long since abandoned by any kind of authority. The door was stacked thick with health code and building and safety notices, broken caution tape and posters for grunge bands. He ignored all of this, squeezing through the half open door and making a beeline for the stairs.

Three stories up the five story building he went off the stairs and down the hall to apartment 3G, one of the few that still had any door at all, and knocked out a quick beat. The door opened quickly and he slid inside.

“I got a bit over a hundred bucks,” he said, pushing his hood down. “We should be able to get your meds.” Sans hood, it was easy to see how a person might find the kid attractive. For all that he was scrawny, he had puppy dog eyes and feathery hair a bit damp from the rain and a bit greasy from not having had a shower in a while. The person who had opened the door was a girl, shorter than him with a long braid of vibrant strawberry blonde hair. She was dressed in the same street chic as the guy.

With her pert nose wrinkled, the girl sighed. “Stiles, we need food more than I need meds.”

“Don’t say that, Lydia. I can get us food. We need money for meds.” He shook his head. “You know I’m right.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stepped past her and stripped off his sweatshirt and exchanging it for a dry one off the kitchen counter. “I’m beat, I’m going to get some sleep.”

“You want me to go out try to get some more?” Lydia asked.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Lots of creepers out today. We’ll go out together, okay?” He managed a smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it work.”

“Fine, but if we have to go to the pharmacy, I want good shampoo.”

“Fine, fine. Sleep time. Be good.” He shuffled out of the kitchen and into a bedroom occupied mostly by a mattress on the floor, a box of clothes and a crate that was doubling as a desk. An outdated laptop was propped open and charging. Stiles had managed to steal power from another building for the last few months. He kicked his shoes off and collapsed onto the mattress, grabbing his pillow with one arm and huffing softly.

“Sleep tight, Stiles.”

He waved absently and mumbled, falling asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

He’d had a long day.

Lydia looked in on her sleeping roommate with a soft smile. The pair had been stuck together at the hip ever since they left Beacon Hills. Things had gotten messy back home. Really messy. That was almost two years ago. They’d been fifteen when everything hit the fan. It was something neither of them liked to talk about, but it left a lasting mark.

For Lydia, that mark was a power she didn’t understand. She understood a lot of things, Archaic Latin, advanced mathematics, but the power to sense death…that was an entirely different matter. She had books piled up the walls of her bedroom, the library labels still attached to them. Books on every subject, any subject.

The books were Lydia’s escape when things got bad and they couldn’t afford to buy anything to help. She was feeling okay right now though. Things would be all right. Stiles was there. Stiles who had surprised her so much in the beginning but now… Stiles was the only constant in her life. Her best friend.

Lydia wasn’t the only one who had problems. Stiles saw things too. Things he didn’t talk about anymore. He was always so much more concerned about her than he was himself.

Creepers, Lydia thought. That was their word for something they didn’t understand. Shadow things that watched them. They were tall and thin, and just—creepy. They would follow you if you stared too long at them and that was dangerous. The only thing that made them go away was sunlight, and that was in short supply with the rain.

They were safe inside though. The last couple years had given them time to figure out how to keep creepers out of the places they lived at least. A barrier Stiles placed around the foundation of every tenement and abandoned building they stayed in. An accidental discovery they made while burning logs to stay warm. The ash from one tree bothered the creepers, kept them away.

Mountain ash, to be precise. It could be difficult to find, but Stiles always managed. He always kept her safe. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Lydia dug around the kitchen and came up with one last can of beans. She opened it up with the pocket knife she kept in her back pocket and ate a portion, leaving half for Stiles when he woke up.

Things aren’t that bad. She sat down on her own mattress and pulled a book from the pile. _At least I’m not alone._

***

Detective Hale still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten roped into helping out on cold case, even one regarding missing kids. Except he was originally from Beacon Hills, and everyone figured that meant he was the perfect guy to deal with the local authorities. Never mind that he hadn’t left town on outstanding terms.

If one of the missing kids hadn’t been the sheriff’s own son, he might have been able to wriggle out of it, but he couldn’t do that. He knew the sheriff well. Respected him. If the regular police had fucked this case up, then he was going to have to help.

Two years ago things in Beacon Hills had gone crazy when someone started killing people. Same time as the killings, three kids up and went missing. Stiles Stilinksi, the sheriff’s son, Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore. Jackson was the only one they ever found, wandering around the streets of Las Vegas a year later. Twelve months of therapy and Jackson had given up a small detail that gave the parents left behind some hope.

The kids had been together until Las Vegas when Stiles and Lydia headed east. New York City, to be more specific, which was how Detective Hale ended up involved. He’d been living in New York for the past six years, working for the police department for five. Finding a couple of kids in New York…that was a monumental task.

Not to mention his already full case load.

He tried to spend a few hours a week walking the neighborhoods, camps and streets kids that age were likely to end up. Other than bringing in a whole lot of delinquents, he hadn’t had much luck finding Stiles and Lydia, or even anyone who might have seen them. He’d been at it for a few months when he started to notice something very strange. There was a new tag appearing in a four block area. A bright yellow smiley face with x’s for eyes. It was always the same color yellow.

It wasn’t normal paint either. He’d only had to get within a few feet of it to figure that out—the paint was mixed with mountain ash. Detective Hale wasn’t precisely normal himself—he was born a werewolf. Mountain ash had a repelling effect on werewolves in addition to a number of other creatures. It was enough to pique his interest. It was an investigation he took on after hours.

He tracked the tags on a map of the area. So far he had plotted out over a dozen tags. Some were covered up, but he could see them if looked at the walls with a wolf’s eyes. The freshest tag was in an alley next to a Chinese restaurant. He sniffed around, and found a mostly empty can of spray paint. There was the smell of paint and ash, but underneath it—he caught a spicy scent. A spicy scent he also found near a wall by the dumpster.

He took a deep breath and got as good a lock on the scent as he was able before heading out. The rain and the other smells of the city made it difficult, but he was tenacious. His tracking took him to a rundown apartment building near the epicenter of the four block area tagged with mountain ash. The apartment though, was ringed in the stuff. Detective Hale blended right into the neighborhood. Leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans, motorcycle boots and a gloomy expression.

He had a piercing gaze and a menacing presence. It helped that he was tall and muscular. He looked like he could handle himself in any situation, and if he couldn’t there was always the wolf inside him to back him up. The wolf wouldn’t let him inside the building though, and that was a problem. He found a good spot to watch the only viable entrance he could find and settled in to wait. The graffiti artist had to come out eventually.

_I’ve got a few questions for you._


	2. Predator

Stiles woke up near dawn and checked the rain barrels set up to give them running water. The rain the night previous had filled up the barrels nicely. He went back inside and took a quick shower before checking on Lydia. She was asleep, clutching a physics book. He smiled and went into the kitchen to write her a note and eat the other half of the can of beans. 

Lydia had set up the extra locks on their door to engage via pulley whenever the door closed, so someone had to stay inside. She didn’t like to go out much anyway so Stiles did most of the shopping and money gathering. It was better if Lydia didn’t get on the street too often. She didn’t take it well. Stiles didn’t want her to have an episode. 

Stiles headed out of the tenement, pulling his hood up to hide his face. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He took a quick look around to find the source of the disturbance. A man stood in the shadows of another building. Stiles raised his eyebrows and froze for a brief moment. 

_Cop._ Stiles knew one when he saw one, but there was more to it than that. He also felt something else. He felt he was on the verge of being chased. Like he was looking at a predator. He didn’t even think twice about it—he ran. He thought about Lydia still inside, and ran into the nearest alley. 

Detective Hale didn’t get a good look at the kid with the red hood’s face, but the spicy scent was definitely the same as the one from the alley. When the kid took off, he raised his eyebrows and then ran after him. The alley was walled off at the end, but that didn’t stop Stiles. He jumped, gripped the top of the wall and clambered up with more grace that Detective Hale would have expected from a street kid. 

That didn’t mean he could outrun a werewolf though. Hale jumped up after him a split-second later and grabbed the kid’s hoodie and jerked him back off the wall and pinned him into the corner created by the alley wall and the blockade. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong, man,” Stiles shouted. 

Hale pulled the hood down and looked Stiles’ in the eyes. “You ran. That’s suspicious behavior. I think you’re the kid that’s been tagging those smiley faces all over the neighborhood.”

“Ooh, vandalism. I’m so scared of a misdemeanor. I’ll get a slap on the wrist.” 

Hale raised his eyebrows and the frowned. “Wait a minute. You’re Stiles.” He blinked. “You’re Stiles Stilinski. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Stiles blinked and tried to get out of Hale’s grasp with no success. 

“Where’s Lydia Martin?”

“Who?”

“Don’t be smart, Stilinski.” He grabbed Stiles by the neck, noting with interest the smattering of moles along the boy’s face and throat. There was also a scar there, a wicked one near red and shiny, stretched in a band from the back of his neck around to the front like a half circle. “That wasn’t in the description I got of you. How’d it happen?”

Stiles shrugged. “Things happen. It happened.”  
   
Hale raised his eyebrows. “Are you trying to piss me off?” 

“I don’t try to piss people off,” he replied. “It just happens naturally.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“I want your badge. You can’t just stop someone without showing your badge.” Stiles was finally starting to get his head on right. His heart was still pounding like a rabbit’s, but he was thinking now. 

“All right then.” Hale pulled out his badge and flipped it open. “Take a long look.”

“Detective Derek Hale…” Stiles swallowed hard. “Hale?” His eyes went wide and Derek saw fear in them. Stiles’ hands shook. “Like— _Peter_ Hale?”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “What about him? He’s dead.”

Stiles looked Derek in the eyes. “Right. Dead.” Stiles nodded rapidly. “Dead.” The fear didn’t go away and Derek wasn’t so sure Stiles even believed what he was saying. “You want to take me home or something?”

“Your dad is worried about you. Don’t you care about that?”

“Of course I care about that. I just—I can’t go home. I can’t. You should just pretend you never even saw me, detective.” 

“I can’t do that.”

Stiles frowned and took a deep breath, catching a strange smell. _Wet dog?_ He was still getting that strange feeling—like he was standing right in front of a dangerous animal. Stiles had lasted this long by trusting his instincts. 

Should’ve brought my bat. Stiles thought. He considered his options and took the path of least resistance—he kneed the cop in the balls and ran off while Derek recovered. He went over the wall and ran for a bolthole where he kept a backpack and a spare baseball bat. He slung the backpack on, grabbed the bat and kept on going. He had the strangest sense that Detective Hale could track him like any other predator. He was almost certain there was something not right about that guy. Something…otherworldly. 

Given the relationship Derek Hale had to Peter Hale, that wasn’t all that surprising. Peter Hale was a monster. The monster. The monster that drove him from his home and nearly killed Lydia and brought those powers out of Lydia—out of him. Stiles wasn’t really sure what his “gift” was good for. His instincts were better than average, he could see the creepers just like Lydia could—but that was the result of their shared near-death experience. 

Lydia could sense death, but Stiles didn’t think that had anything to do with them almost dying, he couldn’t do that. Jackson hadn’t been able to do that either. Jackson…he still didn’t know what had happened to Jackson, but he hoped the guy was all right, even if he had been a total ass in the beginning. He’d come around eventually. They’d lost him a year ago in Vegas, but Vegas hadn’t been crowded enough to disperse the creepers. 

It was weird but true, the more people, the fewer creepers. Stiles didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to argue with it. He unconsciously touched the scar on his neck. He’d gotten it in Vegas when they still thought creepers were all shadow and no bite. They didn’t make that mistake again. He wished Jackson was still with them, he’d been the strongest of them. He’d been able to protect Lydia better than Stiles could but…he had to make it work. There wasn’t another option. 

He just—she was his family now. 

***

Derek growled and got to his feet. The kid had surprised him, but he wasn’t about to let him go now. He climbed over the wall and took a deep breath to catch Stiles’ scent. No kid was going to outdo Derek Hale. He ran as fast as he could. The kid’s scent was easy to follow. It cut through the smell of trash and inclement rain. He’d never liked the smell of the city, but there was always the park if he needed to get away and run. There were even deer in there if he wanted to hunt. Right now though, he was hunting. 

He found himself smiling as he hurried down the alleyways and side streets, clambered up fire escapes and jumped across rooftops in pursuit of the scent. The kid was athletic, he had to admit, but his prey would run out of places to flee eventually. 

And he ran out of room when Derek pinned him in a hallway of a half-collapsed building. The rubble blocking the door was fresh. Stiles looked surprised, but this time he had his baseball bat. This particular one was aluminum, his wooden bat was at the apartment with Lydia. They were both reinforced with his special mountain ash paint, and bright yellow.

“Leave me alone,” Stiles shouted. “Just leave me alone. I’m fine. Lydia is fine. Leave us alone.”

“That’s not what Jackson said,” Derek said. “Why don’t you put the bat down?”

“Fuck you.” Stiles frowned. “Wait, _Jackson_? Jackson’s okay?”

“They picked him up Vegas last year, he was ranting about monsters in the dark. Took the doctors a year to get anything useful out of him. He told us you were here. We’re what, two months shy of your eighteenth birthday? You’d be free and clear if you made it. Never have to go home. Is that what you want?”

Stiles gulped. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Just leave me alone. I can’t go home. You don’t understand.”

“I understand you’ve painted tags all over. I understand that paint is chock full of mountain ash. You know things, don’t you Stiles?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s mountain ash?”

“You are the worst liar in the world, aren’t you?” Derek loomed over Stiles, just out of reach of the bat. Derek snorted. “I know you’re hiding something.”

“So are you,” Stiles accused. “You’re—a predator.” 

Derek’s eyebrows went up. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his hawkish nose at the gawky teenager. “Are you implying I’m a pedophile?”

“That’s not the kind of predator I meant. I recognize the former easy, I’m not sure what you are but I know you’re dangerous. I know. I’ve seen things. I—” He shut his mouth abruptly and shook his head. 

Derek took a deep breath, eyed the loosened grip Stiles’ had on his bat and sprung, grabbing the weapon and chucking it up into the stairwell before grabbing the kid by the back of the neck. He pulled Stiles close and took a deep sniff. 

“Your scent. You wear cologne.” He hadn’t caught it before, the underlying odor. The spice was from some kind of oil or cologne but under that—Derek knew that smell. It was death mixed with fear and power and…emptiness. Underneath it all, there was nothing. Like the boy in front of him was a ghost. 

“Please let me go.”

“What are you so afraid of, Stiles?”

“I—see them. You don’t. You don’t…”

“What don’t I see?” Derek looked in those dark brown eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“The creepers. You asked where the scar came from. A creeper did it, in Vegas. That’s why Jackson was alone. We go separated.” Stiles swallowed. “I told you something, now tell me—what the hell are you?”

Derek took a moment to consider before answering. “I’m a werewolf.”

Stiles laughed. “Great. Monsters, werewolves, creepers…ghosts. It’s fucking Halloween and the time.”

“Look, I don’t know what creepers are, but your dad misses you. He’s losing hope, Stiles. You are all he has.”

“If I go home the monster will follow, and he’ll kill my dad. He’ll kill Scott. I can’t go home. I can’t. Don’t you think I want to go home?” Stiles cried. “I’m sick of hiding from that monster. I’m sick of dodging creepers. But there isn’t another way. There just isn’t.”

The kid wasn’t lying, he believed every word he was saying at least, but what the hell was Derek supposed to do now? 

“Hey, asshole, let go of my friend!” Lydia stood in the stairwell, bat in hand. 

“Dammit Lydia, I told you to wait for me.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No way. This whole place feels live a graveyard. We’re getting out of here now.”

“Lydia Martin I presume,” Derek glanced up at her. “I think we all need to have a long chat.” He pulled the handcuffs from his belt pouch and snapped one cuff around Stile’s right wrist and the other around one of his own belt loops. “Why don’t we have this conversation somewhere else then. How’s that?”

Lydia looked at Stiles, who nodded very slightly. She didn’t put down the bat, but she did nod. “Fine. But if you hurt him, I’ll kill you.”

“That’s fair,” Derek said in a mollifying tone. “Let’s go then.”

_What the hell is going on with these kids anyway_


	3. Broken Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a diner, Target, and a pharmacy. Also Stiles in handcuffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post every chapter with one thought: I am a terrible person. Oh well. Enjoy.

Derek made the decision to take the kids to a diner a few blocks away after Stiles’ stomach growled like an angry bear. It was New York, no one even looked twice at a teenager handcuffed to a guy’s belt loop and a girl with a bright yellow baseball bat trailing behind.

“Get whatever you want,” he said.

Stiles took that to heart and ordered steak and eggs, hash browns, waffles, coffee and apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Lydia looked over the menu very carefully and then ordered almost the exact same thing as Stiles, except her eggs were over easy and the pie in question was Key Lime. Derek decided not to break the mold and ordered the same, with blueberry pie and French fries instead of hash browns.

When the food was delivered, it crowded the table completely and Derek watched with some amusement but mostly concern, as the kids devoured everything they’d ordered. They must not have eaten well for the last week or so.

Derek sighed. There werewolf was saying he should protect them, find out what was hunting them and kill it. The cop was saying he should take them into the precinct and let the justice system do its work. Unfortunately, one set of instincts was overriding the other. He finished his second cup of coffee and waited until they’d settled. The booth he’d taken was on the far side of the diner, isolated from the lone man drinking coffee at the counter.

“All right, I’m going to give you ten minutes to explain to me exactly why I shouldn’t take you to the police station.”

Stiles glanced at Derek and wrinkled his nose. “Depends, will you believe us?”

“Werewolf, remember? Now talk.”

Lydia looked at Stiles and nodded. “We need help, Stiles. Maybe…maybe he can help.”

“Fine.” Stiles took a breath. “It all started two years ago in Beacon Hills. People were getting killed. Me and Lydia and Jackson and my buddy Scott were out in the preserve looking for a dead body. Jackson dared us and Scott and me were stupid so…”

“Jackson was an ass,” Lydia said.

Stiles shrugged. “We got attacked in the woods. Scott was fine but the paramedics told us later that me and Jackson and Lydia—we were technically dead for a bit there. After we came to each of us was different. We could see things. We call them creepers. They look like shadows but they’re not. They can hurt you.” Stiles touched his scar. “They don’t show up so often in crowded cities so we came to New York.”

“But that doesn’t entirely explain why you won’t go home.”

“The monster that tried to kill us,” Lydia said. “He’s been tracking us. He almost got us in Brooklyn three months ago but we moved. The city makes it harder.”

“He won’t cross the mountain ash either.” Stiles took a deep breath. “That monster—Peter Hale. I guess he must be a werewolf too then.”

“Yeah.” Derek frowned. “He is. Except I thought he was dead.”

“Not so much,” Stiles said. “No matter what we do—he always comes back. He’s like the Energizer Bunny of evil.”

“Okay.” Derek blinked. “Do you have anything productive to add to that?”

“The creepers follow him around,” Lydia said. “He has red eyes and he seems to be unhealthily infatuated with me.”

“That’s true,” Stiles said. “It’s creepy. When he’s not being terrifying, he’s being creepy.”

Derek sighed. “To be honest, I don’t remember him fondly.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’ve been running from him for two years. You’ve tried to kill him how many times?”

“Fifteen and a half. I swear he was dead at least half those times but…he just kept coming back.”

“Half?” Derek asked.

“We accidentally ran him over with a car; since it wasn’t intentional I can’t call it a whole attempt.” Stiles wrinkled his nose and shrugged.

“I see.” Derek was starting to get the feeling these kids were going to get him in more trouble than he initially thought. “I see. You are both insane. You tried to kill an alpha werewolf with a car.”

“That was an accident,” Lydia said. “The actual attempts were carefully planned and executed. I know, I oversaw them.”

“She is a genius,” Stiles remarked. “So, do you mind taking the cuff off? I mean, it’s chafing my wrist and this whole thing is looking more than a little—well, like we’re in some weird alternative relationship.”

Derek considered that for a while. “Do you promise not to run?”

“Of course.” Stiles made a face. “We’ve bonded you and I, I will totally not run. I’m like a cat, you fed me I’ll just stick around to see if I get fed again.”

Stiles might’ve been laying it on too thick but he didn’t care, the cuff was chafing. He was also full and it wasn’t like he was going to run anytime soon. Or move at all.

Derek raised his eyebrows. “You open your mouth and every thought in your head just spills out, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

Derek took a deep breath, and against his better judgment he unlocked the cuff. Stiles was still trapped between him and the diner wall though, so he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Thanks.”

“Now, as for what we’re going to do with you two delinquents now.” Derek leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “I can’t leave you on the streets. It’s not safe and you can’t keep picking pockets.”

“I never---” Stiles protested.

Derek silenced him with one stern look.

“Now, I’ve got a pretty big apartment down in the meat district. Loft style, but I have some couches and mattresses for guests.”

“Lot of people stay over?” Stiles asked.

“Family, mostly. Not Peter, if you’re wondering. My sisters stay sometimes, cousins.”

“Didn’t—didn’t Peter try to set your family house on fire or something?” Stiles asked. “My dad said something about it.”

Derek swallowed. “Yeah. He did. We got lucky though.”

Stiles got the distinct feeling Derek didn’t want to talk about it. “Okay.”

“Back to the topic on hand. Is there anything you absolutely need from that hole you’ve been living in?"

Stiles thought about his clothes, his laptop, Lydia’s books. “A few things.”

“Anything that can’t be replaced?”

“Not especially,” Lydia answered.

Stiles gave her a look and she shrugged.

“All right then. My car is parked in a garage not far from here. We’ll stop for clothes and toiletries on the way to my place.”

Stiles looked at Lydia and remembered the money he had stuffed in his shoe for her medication. They had a deal with a shady pharmacist who sold them prescription pills out the back. He wasn’t sure how to explain that to Derek. Food had made him slow. He had to get those pills for her but…how was he supposed to explain that to Derek? It would probably be easier to sneak off and then come back. Derek would be pissed off, but it was at least possible.

He’d need Lydia to act as a distraction.

“So…there’s a Target a couple blocks from here,” Stiles said. “We could go there.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes and raised one eyebrow at Stiles, who tried not to do anything too obvious to signal back to her and ended up spilling the rest of his coffee. “Oh, damn it. You’ve got to be kidding. Sorry. Sorry. Can I have your napkins Lydia?”

“Fine.” She handed them over. “Klutz.”

“Thanks.”

“All right then, let’s go.” Derek paid for their food and tipped their waitress heavily for putting up with them.

When they got to the garage and to Derek’s car, Stiles raised his eyebrows. “You drive a Camaro.”

“Yes I do. Get your ass in the car and let’s go.”

 _Now I have to come up with a plan._ Stiles thought. _This should be fun._

***

When Derek was momentarily distracted by a couple arguing in the shoe department Stiles pulled Lydia aside.

“I need you to cause a scene so I can get your meds.”

“Okay. Ideas?”

“I don’t know. Throw something glass and then start screaming. Keep his attention.”

“Brilliant,” she said drily.

Derek turned his attentions back to the kids. “What are you two up to?”

“Shoe shopping,” Lydia replied. “Though I’m more of a Prada than a Converse girl, they’ll do. I like the green ones.”

Derek blinked. “We’ll do a pair of shoes each, jeans, shirts.”

“Dude, that’s…why are you spending money on us?” Stiles asked.

“I have a credit card and a trust fund, it’s fine.” Derek managed a smile. “Just don’t go crazy.”

Lydia’s smile made no such promises. Halfway through their shopping excursion Lydia took the opportunity to smash a glass pitcher and scream like a banshee. Derek rushed toward her and Stiles booked it, breaking a vial of particularly strong perfume nearby as he went. That trick had worked on Peter a couple times, he figured it would work on Derek.

Stiles ran flat out, hurrying out of the store and getting his bearings before heading for the subway to get to the pharmacy. He wasn’t totally sure how to keep the pills hidden, but he had to get them. Lydia was sure to be out now, and she needed them.

The pharmacy was still open when Stiles got there. He flashed a look at the shady pharmacist and headed straight back. He dug out his cash and the pharmacist grabbed his “prescription” from under the counter. Stiles slipped him the cash and took the bag. He thought about places he could stash them, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get back to them later. After some thought, he got some plastic sandwich bags and divided the pills up and hid them in as many different parts of his clothes as he could get into.

He was headed back to the subway when a hand closed around his arm like a vice and a cuff snapped around his wrist.

“I thought you weren’t going to run,” Derek growled.

“I had to run an errand, you would’ve gotten me weird looks,” Stiles replied. He saw Lydia, hands full of shopping bags. “Sorry.”

“Uh huh. Let’s go.”

Stiles sighed and dutifully took some of the bags from Lydia. He stumbled on purpose and slipped one of the bags of pills into her jean pocket.

Derek missed the movement, caught up in being pissed off at Stiles.

***

“Your apartment is fucking huge,” Stiles said. “Jesus. Your family must be loaded.”

“You say the most poetic things, Stiles,” Lydia rolled her eyes. “You have hot running water, yes?”

Derek blinked. “Second door on the left.” He pointed at the short hall just off the main room of the loft.

“Brilliant.” She grabbed one bag, toiletries, dug out some clothes from another and skipped off to shower.

Stiles smiled absently. “So, are you taking the cuff off now?”

Derek gave him a look. “Depends. What was the errand?”

“Oh you know, street kid stuff. Just repaying a loan.” Stiles had learned to lie with ease on the streets, but Derek was a werewolf and he could hear the slight upbeat of Stiles’ heart.

“You’re lying to me.”

“No I’m not.” That heart beat sped up.

“Yes, you are.” Derek grabbed Stiles’ neck. “What did you do? Get drugs?”

For a moment, Stiles’ pupils dilated in surprise. Derek shook his head and grunted in disgust. “Drugs? Are you fucking kidding me? Cough them up. I’ll pat you down if I think you’ve hidden anything. I’m not above a strip search either, punk.”

Stiles’ heart raced, mostly from adrenaline fueled by anxiety but there was just a tiny undercurrent of arousal at the thought of the muscular detective stripping him down.

“Look, it’s nothing. It’s not even for me,” Stiles protested.

“Give. Them. To. Me. Now.”

Stiles muttered under his breath and handed over a single baggy of pills. “Here.”

Derek was sure that wasn’t everything, but inspected the contraband first. “What is this? It’s not a street drug I’m familiar with.”

“Like I said, it’s not for me.”

“So you take recreational drugs then?” Derek raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. I mean. No. Off topic. Those. They’re anti-psychotics. They’re for Lydia. Please. They help her block everything out. The bad stuff.”

Derek could hear the panic in Stiles’ voice and the honesty of his heartbeat. “How many does she take a day?”

“Two.”

“Does she have prescription?”

“Do we look like we have health insurance? She did the research herself. She’s a genius you know. We tried a few different things but these work the best.”

“You will give me all of these pills, I will look them up. I will talk to Lydia and then she will go see a doctor. Are we clear?”

Stiles swallowed and nodded, but that wasn’t what Derek wanted.

“Are we clear?” he repeated.

“Yes, sir.”

Derek let go of his neck and undid the handcuffs. “Give.”

Stiles emptied his pockets slowly. Muttering a bit under his breath and avoiding eye contact. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to get these. Gone to a lot of trouble to keep Lydia healthy and here this guy was telling was what best for his friend. Not much Stiles could do right then either. Derek was bigger and stronger and armed.

_This is not fun._

Derek put all of the bags into his pocket. “Now, do you or have you ever, taken drugs?”

To say no would have been a lie. Stiles had taken things from time to time. He’d been on Ritalin for a while, but not since he died and came back _. Since then though?_ Sure. He’d smoked pot a few times to calm himself down. They’d gotten him some pretty strong painkillers after the attack that left the scar on his neck, and the attack by Peter eight months back when it was barely scarring over and he reopened it.

 _Bastard_. Sometimes though, Stiles took the pain killers so he didn’t have to feel anything at all. Because his life, when he stepped back to look at it, was pathetic. But he wasn’t addicted or anything. He hadn’t taken one in a few months. _Or was it weeks?_ He couldn’t remember, but that had to mean it had been a while. _He wasn’t addicted_.

“Once or twice,” he said. “I’m not on anything right now though.”

Derek shook his head. “Take a shower when Lydia gets out, I’ll make up the beds.”

“But—what are you going to do? I mean are you going to call our parents?”

Derek swallowed. “Not yet. But we do need help. Don’t worry. We’ll stop the monster, Stiles. I promise.”

Stiles’ skin tingled all over, from the crown of his head and down his shoulders. Derek’s promise…it was like the sun had come up after a long winter. He believed the taciturn werewolf. For better or worse, at least he and Lydia had someone on their side now.

_They weren’t alone._


	4. Friends of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek gathers reinforcements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr too, I announce new chapters there, new fics, etc. 
> 
> alicefellfurther.tumblr.com

When it came to taking down rogue werewolves and monsters that bumped in the night that weren’t werewolves, there was really only one person Derek could think to call. He wasn’t particularly happy about it, but given their expertise he couldn’t justify not bringing them in.

In addition to that call, he called his family back in Beacon Hills. He hadn’t spoken to anyone there since he’d been given the assignment to track the kids down, and he hadn’t expected to actually find any of the kids so he was left in need of advice. As usual, he called his mother.

“Mom, yeah I know it’s not when I usually call but—I have a little bit of a situation.”

Careful not to leave anything out, Derek explained the situation. His mother listened without commentary until he finished.

“Well, I think you should call the Argents in, and I would be happy to send Scott along. He is Stiles’ friend after all, and another werewolf couldn’t hurt the situation.”

“You think Scott can keep his mouth shut until we decide to bring the sheriff in?”

“You might be surprised,” she replied. “He’s gotten quite mature recently.”

“I’ll have to trust your judgment on that one.” Derek took a breath. “Put him on the next flight out, maybe he’ll help control Stiles.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

Derek put his phone down and listened carefully. He could hear Lydia’s resting heartbeat from where she had fallen asleep on the couch. A moment later the shower turned off and there was a bit of muttering from Stiles. The teenager emerged from the bathroom in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a towel on his head.

Derek blinked and turned his head, but he had already gotten a good look. Stiles hid his muscles under loose t-shirts and ragged hoodies. The truth was a lean, muscular body and broad shoulders. He had a set of three white scars that ran parallel to one another from his left pectoral muscle and around his side. The injury that nearly killed him two years ago. There were other little scars, and the moles from his neck and face continued down his shoulders and scattered down his chest and sides and arms.

Stiles easy climb over the wall and run over the rooftops suddenly made a lot more sense. Clearly the kid spent a lot of his time running, climbing and getting into trouble. Derek could imagine a boy with a mouth like that—and a body like that—getting into all kinds of trouble. Filthy, dirty…wet trouble. Derek did his best to reel his thoughts in, reminding himself that Stiles was a kid. A punk, a delinquent, underage and so off limits.

That didn’t help appreciably.

“What’s up?” Stiles asked.

Certain portions of Derek’s anatomy for one. “I’ve got some people coming in to help. Lydia is asleep, bed’s made up for you. Stop dripping on my floor.” Derek turned away. “Sleep tight.”

“Right. Cool.” Stiles scrubbed the towel through his hair and tossed it into the hamper just outside the bathroom door before heading for bed. This had definitely been a weird day, even by his standards. He was exhausted.

He was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. He would think that was strange later, but for reasons he couldn't explain he felt safe there. He was also warm, full and clean—the trifecta of sleep.

Derek watched his delinquents fall asleep with a wry smile. Lydia looked like a princess from a fairy tale and then there was Stiles—ten minutes after he fell asleep he started thrashing until he ended up face first on the mattress with one leg over the side of the bed, arms splayed. The pillow was under his knee and the blanket up over his head. He looked like a toddler. One leg of his pajamas had rode up to his knee.

There was a tattoo on his calf. It was that damn smiley face with the x’s for eyes. Derek was going to have to ask Stiles what the hell that meant. Derek sighed and went around to check the locks on the doors and windows, set his alarm system and then sat down at his coffee table to clean his guns.

He wasn’t going to let anything happen to these kids ever again. They’d been through enough.

***

Keeping two teenagers fed was like having four ravenous wolf cubs to take care of.

“For the love of god, wash the dishes, Stiles!” Derek shouted. “It’s like Swamp Thing is living in my sink.”

“I will.”

“Turn that ‘I will” into an ‘I am’, _now_.”

“Fine, fine.”

Derek rolled his eyes, and the bell rang. “You better be washing those dishes in five minutes, Stiles or I’m handcuffing you to the sink.” He listened carefully, and heard rustling as Stiles finally got up befire going to the door to check the camera.

It seemed the Argents had arrived—with Scott McCall in tow.

Derek buzzed them up and checked the kitchen, Stiles was starting to fill the sink. Lydia was rearranging his throw pillows.

“We have company coming,” Derek said. “Try to be—good.” He shook his head.

He opened the door when a firm knock echoed through the loft. The Argents, Chris and Allison, were father and daughter. They’d splintered from the rest of the family a couple years ago. A couple years ago when Peter Hale became an Alpha and murdered all those people in Beacon Hills, along with a pair of Argents. That wasn’t the whole truth though.

Chris was a lean, muscular man with blond hair and a scruffy beard, eyes blue as the sky and a wolfish smile. He always looked like the cat that ate the canary. His daughter’s dark curly hair and brown eyes couldn’t have been any different. Chris’ wife Victoria had been a red head with green eyes. Anyone with eyes could look at those two and their daughter and wonder.

Derek knew better though. Nineteen years ago the Argents had been in Beacon Hills and a certain someone had a fling with a Hale. Nine months later Derek’s mom gave birth to a healthy baby girl and Victoria Argent, who couldn’t have children of her own, took that girl home as her own. Allison Argent, who was also a Hale and Derek’s half-sister.

Given the speculative look on Allison’s face, Derek was guessing she knew.

Behind them was a vaguely uncomfortable looking Scott McCall. He’d grown since Derek had last seen him, two years ago when Scott was bitten by Peter and joined the family. Scott had gotten more muscular since then and a more grown-up hair cut. He’d gone from lost puppy to lean wolf. He flashed a wry smile at Derek.

“Chris, Allison, Scott, come on in.” Derek waved them all in. “Stiles, you can leave those for a bit.”

Stiles paused in the middle of a plate and dried his hands. “Whose all—Scott?”

“Stiles!” Scott slipped away from the crush at the door and hugged Stiles tight. "I can't believe it. I mean, I'm just so glad you're okay."

Stiles nodded, "You look good, Scott." His voice was tight. "Man--I can't believe it's been so long. You got taller."

"I know. My mom says I have to stop growing so fast." Scott smiled his lopsided smile. "You--You've gotten taller too. I can't believe it. I guess I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

While Stiles and Scott continued to bond awkwardly, Derek shut the door and Lydia came over. The redhead flashed a conniving smile at Allison. "Hi there. Lydia Martin."

"Allison," the other girl replied.

Derek looked at Chris. "So, you get a hotel room in the city?"

"We're close by," Chris replied. "Do you know when Peter was seen last?"

"Stiles?"

"It's be a few months now, things have been quiet, but...the last couple days I've seen a lot of creepers about. That usually means he's about to show his face." Stiles made a face. "I guess we're lucky you came along before he did. He gets meaner every time we see him."

"Yeah, lucky," Derek said wryly. "You think he'll show up at the tenement?"

Stiles shrugged. "He's not exactly predictable. I mean. We could see him twice in a day, or once a week for a month and then...nothing. For months. I don't know how he's tracking us."

Derek frowned. "The smiley faces you've tagged around that neighborhood though, what are they for?"

"A deterrent mostly. He'll steer clear of an area if I saturate it with enough mountain ash. Usually."

"Why a smiley face?" Derek pressed.

"I was inspired by BBC's Sherlock." When everyone stared, "What? That's a fucking awesome show so you can all go fuck yourselves." He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. 

"Okay..." Scott sucked on his lower lip and nodded. "Whatever. So how do we stop Peter?" 

Derek noted that Scott hadn't said  _kill_ , but then Scott hadn't been chased by a monster for two years. Stiles wanted Peter dead. Lydia wanted Peter dead. Scott just wanted Peter to leave his friend alone. 

It was a bit sentimental, but Derek couldn't blame him. "First we have to find him," Derek said. "I'll dig into some of my police resources. In the meantime, Scott will be staying here. I want you to keep an eye on Stiles and Lydia. Chris and I will draw up a plan of attack and Allison--you're our back up for when this whole thing goes down."

Allison eyed her half-brother. "Fine. Dad, Lydia and I need to go shopping. Can I have your Am-Ex?"

Chris sighed. "Sure. Don't max it out." He pulled out his wallet and handed her the card with a long suffering look. Allison had been more than a bit vexed at discovering her father had cheated on her mother  _with a werewolf_ of all things. But Allison was trying to limit her anger to spending his money and not stabbing him in the chest with one of the many, _many_ knives she had hidden around her person at any given time. There were at least three hidden in the belted tunic/jeans combo she wore. On close inspection the top of one blade was visible just peeking out the top of her boot. 

"Don't worry, Derek. Lydia will be safe with me," Allison looked Derek in the eyes without blinking. "We'll be back in a couple hours."

Derek had no doubt Lydia would be safe with Allison. The girl was a walking weapon. Even a human member of the Hale family was dangerous, and the girl was also an Argent, which made her doubly dangerous. He pitied the boy that tried to date her. Given the puppy dog eyes he'd Scott flash her way, he was certain he needed to have a talk with the kid. Allison wasn't like other girls. Plus, she was his sister and he felt an obligation to threaten any potential mates. It was in his DNA. 

Allison swept away with Lydia, leaving the apartment decidely testosterone heavy. "Why don't we all go sit down?" Derek asked. 

"Sure," Chris agreed. "Stiles. has Peter spoken to you at all?"

"A bit now and again. Mostly ranting about ' _I will make you my pack'_  sort of stuff. He's never very coherent. I don't think his brain is all there really. Well, especially not after I shot him in the head about fourteen months ago. I'm still surprised that didn't kill the bastard to be honest. I was hoping." 

"Okay." Everyone sat down in the living room and Chris took the seat opposite Stiles, leaning in. "Tell me everything that's happened, right from the beginning. Don't leave out any details." 

Stiles swallowed. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," Derek said.

"Fine." Stiles took a deep breath. "It started when Scott and Lydia and Jackson and I were out in the Beacon Hills preserve looking for a dead body. Jackson started it all really by being a total asshole..." 


	5. The Most Dangerous Enemy

"So," Lydia started, glancing at Allison through her eyes lashes. "What did your dad do to piss you off to the tune of a credit card fueled shopping excursion?" She flipped through a rack of dresses with a clinical eye.

Allison managed a smile. "Well, you know Derek, right?"

"Or as Stiles calls him, 'the one who feeds us'," Lydia replied.

Allison chuckled. "Yeah, well it turns out my dad had an affair with Derek's mom and I'm kind of his half-sister." She sucked in her lips and pulled a leather jacket off the rack she was sorting through. "So, Dad has a lot of groveling and making up to do."

Lydia put a hand on Allison's, "I know a much better store for _that_  sort of thing. Come on. We'll max out his card and make you look sexy and make me look less like a homeless person." Lydia flipped the long braid her hair was in over shoulder. "It's been two years since I've had anything designer, that needs to change."

Allison smiled properly. "Well, we could hit up Sephora too."

Lydia smiled. "I think you're my new best friend." She put the jacket back onto the rack and looped an arm through Allison's. 

"What about Stiles?"

"Stiles is like my brother. He--I never paid much attention to him before all this happened but that didn't even matter to him. He's an amazing person. He's saved my life so many time and he never expects anything. I mean, he was in love with me for a long time." Lydia sighed. "I guess we both grew up a lot."

"And Scott?"

"Scott... I don't know him really well. Stiles talks about him sometimes. I know he missed him a lot. They're basically brothers. It killed Stiles, not telling Scott where he was. Or his dad. I guess. We didn't want to risk anyone else in this mess with Peter." Lydia took a deep breath. "My parents probably think I'm dead."

"We're going to get Peter you know. Then you can go home."

"I can go back to Beacon Hills," Lydia replied. "I don't know if I'll ever get home again."

Home was a feeling Lydia hadn't had in a long time. She felt safe with Stiles, and with Derek, but with everything she had gone through... She didn't think there was a home to go back to. Sometimes, you can't go home again.

***

"So then Derek kidnapped us and we had pie and...that's about it," Stiles finished. "The whole sordid tale."

"You have such a way with words," Derek muttered.

"Forgive me for not being Charles Dickens." Stiles rolled his eyes. The weather outside was starting to turn, clouding over and rain threatening. Stiles couldn't help tapping his fingers against his leg nervously. Lydia was out there. Lydia was out there with someone who couldn't even  _see_ the creepers. He didn't like that. 

"So these shadow-creatures can hurt you and Lydia, but have you ever seen them hurt anyone else?" Chris asked. 

"No, but we're usually trying to avoid them so..." Stiles shrugged. "Anything is possible." 

Chris sighed and shook his head. "I hate to say it Derek, but this might be over my head. I mean if it bleeds I've tracked it but if what this kid says is true we can't lay a finger on these things but they can hurt us. We need a bit more help than I can provide." Chris pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Who would you prefer? Deaton or Morell?" 

"Deaton," Derek replied. "Morell is a bit green for my taste." Derek found himself inexplicably calm. The last time he'd run into Chris they'd exchanged blows. Derek had been pissed off about the whole affair situation. Sure, his dad had been dead when Chris slept with Talia but...old wounds heal slowly. 

"All right. I'll get him up here on the next flight. You're mother shouldn't mind." 

Derek twinged for a moment. _All right, not totally over it then._ "Great." He noticed Stiles was acting twitchy again. "Stiles, something wrong with you?" 

"It's getting dark. No sunshine, nothing to push the creepers away. Lydia's not back yet."  

"I'll go find Allison and Lydia," Scott said. "They'll be fine." He pushed himself up from the couch. 

Derek looked Scott in the eyes. "Be careful."

"Always." Scott smiled and pat Stiles on the shoulder before heading out the door. Stiles was feeling more awkward than nervous stuck in a room with two adults--two  _armed_ adults, he corrected. It was totally not fair that he was the only one who didn't have a weapon. 

Stiles glanced at Derek and then at Chris. He leaned more deeply into the couch and tried not to look too sullen. He was still worried about Lydia. He was also sort of wondering what role he was going to play in the capture/kill of Peter Hale. He had a feeling Derek wanted him to stay out of it. Dammit though, he was the one that bastard had been chasing around for two years. Lydia too, she had a right to her pound of flesh. Stiles wished he could remember a time when things like that didn't exist for him, but he couldn't. Running, hiding, fighting, that was his life for two years. That was still his life, even with Derek's promise of protection. A promise made with sincerity Stiles didn't think he could muster himself. Sincerity wasn't one of his strong suits. Honesty wasn't one of his strong suits either but that wasn't a recent acquisition to his personality, he'd just gotten better at it. 

"You're too quiet," Derek said. "What are you thinking about, Stiles?"

"Mayhem, murder and madness." Stiles shrugged. "Teenager stuff, you wouldn't understand." 

Derek rolled his eyes. "Try not to be so damn angsty, Stiles. It's a bit pathetic."

"So's your face." Stiles regretted that immediately. For one thing, there was nothing pathetic about Derek's face. The man was gorgeous, but Stiles would never tell him that. Derek rolled his eyes and turned back to converse with Chris. Stiles sighed. He was itching for something to do. He wished he had his laptop. He was still kind of pissed off about the laptop. He needed that laptop. It had important things on it. His porn stash for one thing, and that had taken so long to compile. Then there were all the numerous underground connections. 

Mostly porn though. He did have a cellphone though. He pulled the phone out and got online, hitting up some of the forums he used to track sightings of Peter and other creatures that stalked the night. He wasn't going to look at porn with two other people in the room. Especially when one of those people was old enough to be his father. Derek was pretty much a walking porn trope, but Stiles wasn't going to think about that. 

At least, not with two other people in the room. 

***

Scott caught up to Lydia and Allison just before it started to rain outside a high-end boutique weighed down with bags. 

"Oh good, someone to carry bags," Lydia pressed several on Scott. 

"Stiles is worried about you," Scott said. "The weather he said."

Lydia looked up at the sky and nodded. "We should get back as soon as possible." She glanced around looking for any sign of creepers.  _None so far_. She took a deep breath. "We should catch a cab." 

Allison nodded. "I'll get one." 

Scott eyed Allison as she walked away and Lydia snorted. 

"I wouldn't look at her that way around her father if I were you," she warned. 

Scott looked back at her and blinked. "Huh?"

"You know what I mean, lover-boy." She gave him a look. "That man could kill you with his pinky finger."

Scott grimaced and nodded slowly. "I'll keep that in mind." 

"I got a cab," Allison shouted. 

Lydia put a smile on her face. "Come on then, lover-boy." She tapped him on the shoulder and hurried toward the cab. "I have to get Stiles to model some of these things. He's going to look amazing."

"You bought clothes for Stiles?" 

"Have you seen his wardrobe? Of course I bought clothes for him." She slid into the cab and Scott followed. "He had the worst taste you know. The man owns more red hoodies than I have ever seen in my life."

Scott rolled his eyes. "He's always liked red. I think his dad put him onto it in the first place, to make it easier to find him when he wandered off. Stiles wandered off a lot." 

"I don't remember him from then," Lydia admitted. "I didn't really know him at all. I regret that. Stiles--I wouldn't have made it without him."

"Are you two...I mean, are you dating?"

Lydia laughed. "We're just friends. Stiles has... _other_ interests. You should see his porn stash. It's much better than mine." Lydia pursed her lips. "We have similar tastes in men it turns out." 

"Oh." Scott made a face. "I had no idea."

"That's because you're a boy." She gave him a look and smiled. "And his friend. He probably had a little crush on you for a while, but he's over it."

"What makes you say that?"

"He's giving someone else looks these days. I know those looks." She batted her eyes lashes. "Like the ones you give her."

Allison was preoccupied with giving the cab driver directions. Scott glanced at her and then back at Lydia. "And who is Stiles looking at anyway?"

"When we get back to Derek's, pay attention."

Scott frowned. "You're just doing this to be difficult, are't you?"

"What's going on?" Allison asked.  

"We were just discussing mating habits," Lydia said. "It's a fascinating subject."

"You are a strange person, you know that?" Allison asked.

"I know," Lydia replied. "I know."

***

Stiles was starting to get the feeling he should get out of the room when the door finally opened on Lydia, Allison, Scott and an _obscene_ number of shopping bags. Stiles glanced at Chris' face, enjoying the look of resigned terror on his face. 

Lydia looked at Stiles. "Come on, I have things for you to try on."

Stiles sighed. "Why?"

"Because I'm tired of looking at a hobo all the time." She batted her eyelashes. "Come on now."

"Fine." Stiles got up, tucking the phone into his pocket and following after Lydia into the bathroom. She handed him a bag of clothes. "Make sure to come out and model them."

"I am not  _modeling_." 

"We'll see." Lydia left him alone in the bathroom and went out into the living room. "So, do we have a plan?"

"We're bringing in another set of hands," Derek said. "Did you have fun?"

"Nothing is more fun than shopping," Lydia replied, sitting down next to Lydia. "Except maybe shopping with someone else's money."

Chris groaned softly. Allison smirked. 

"Don't worry, Dad, we didn't max it out." She smiled. "But you still owe me a new crossbow." 

Meanwhile, Stiles got himself into one of the two outfits Lydia had selected for him. 

Both were just...they had Lydia written all over them. The last time she'd dressed him he'd gone out of the house looking like a goth that just jumped a GQ model.  _I don't know what she's thinking._ He sighed. She wouldn't leave him alone until she saw him everything either. 

He tugged on the stone-washed jeans that looked older than his oldest jeans by design, an obscenely tight black tank top and a button down shirt that appeared to be striped until someone looked very closely. The stripes were actually tiny black skulls in lines like ants. The shirt itself was purple. At the bottom of the bag was a black eyeliner stick. Stiles rolled his eyes. 

He picked it up and stalked out of the bathroom. "Seriously Lydia, eyeliner? I don't know how many times I have to tell you I'm not going goth..." He stopped talking partly because everyone was staring at him. "What?" He checked his fly, but it was fine. 

"Nothing," Lydia said. "You look good."

"Uh huh." He frowned. "Seriously? Is there something on my face?"

"I think we're all just in awe of the fact that you can dress yourself," Derek said. 

Stiles growled at him and went back into the bathroom without another word. 

"Weird kid," Chris said. 

"Yeah," Derek agreed. Though he was trying to keep the image of Stiles in fitted jeans and a near tailored shirt as a permanent memory. _I'm going straight to hell._ Derek shook his head. "You like riling him up, don't you?" He looked at Lydia.

She shrugged. "He looked good, I don't what his problem is. Eyeliner would really bring out the color of his eyes you know."

"Anyway..." Chris shook his head. "We'll head back to our place for the night. I'll call you when Deaton gets in and we can dig in."

"Sounds good to me. Scott, I have a bed made up for you." 

"Great."

Derek's loft was starting to look like a campground, with his bed and now three air beds blown up and made up in the empty space off the living room area. It looked like that when his family was over anyhow, so he didn't mind terribly. Thinking about feeding three teenagers though--that was a bit terrifying. 

Derek walked Chris and Allison out and ordered a few pizzas before noticing that Stiles had not come out of the bathroom. 

"Stiles? What's wrong?"

"The second outfit isn't that bad," Lydia shouted. Stiles didn't respond and Lydia's senses flared warning. "Derek, there's something wrong."

Derek went to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked from the inside. "Stiles?"

Inside the bathroom, Stiles was trying to regain control. When he came back from the dead, when he was bitten by Peter, he came back with more than just an eye for creepers. It was the reason he'd made sure that wherever he and Lydia lived, the door could only be opened from this inside. When he got like this, he couldn't muster enough motor skill to open the complex locks Lydia designed. When he got like this--she wasn't safe around him. 

Derek pounded on the door again. "Stiles!"

Stiles clutched his stomach. Pain radiated out from his spine. His muscles clenching tighter and tighter. He snarled. A glance in the mirror showed him his eyes were changing too.  _Dammit. Dammit._

_I've been so worried about Lydia, I completely ignored this coming on. Peter is too close. Too close._

The most dangerous enemy Stiles faced in the past two years wasn't Peter--it was the monster inside himself. 

 


	6. Monsters

"Stiles!" Derek continued to pound on the door. Lydia backed away. Derek turned to look at her. "What's going on Lydia?"

"It's...we all changed that night Peter killed us. I sense death, Jackson got stronger and Stiles..." She shook her head. "It would be best if you didn't try to open that door."

"What happened to Stiles?" Derek demanded. "How did he change?"

"It's just when Peter gets close. Not even all the time then. Stiles--it's like his protective instincts go into overdrive." She shook her head. "He's not a werewolf, I'm sure of that. I--I don't know what he is really."

"He transforms?" Derek raised his eyebrows. "Into what?"

"I've never seen it clearly. Stiles always gets away from me before that happens. I think he's scared what he might do." Lydia crossed her arms over her chest.

Derek looked at Scott. "Get Lydia out of here. Take her to the coffee shop on the corner until I call you back."

"Okay." Scott nodded at Lydia and escorted her out of the loft. Derek waited until they were in the elevator before breaking in the bathroom door. Stiles was crouched on the floor, his back to the door and his hands clenched through his hair.

He was snarling.

"Stiles?" Derek placed a hand on Stiles shoulder. The teenager felt hot, like he was running an impossibly high fever. "Stiles!"

Stiles spun around and growled, baring pointed teeth that were the wrong shape for his mouth. His eyes had gone feral gold and his fingers ended in claws but... Lydia was right, he wasn't a werewolf. Strange marks were scattered across his cheeks and temples--like leopard spots.

Not a werewolf. Derek grimaced and took a few steps back. "Stiles, it's okay. It's Derek, I'm not going to hurt you."

Stiles growled again and Derek heard the horribly familiar sound of cracking bone as the boy's spine began to reshape itself under his skin. An inhuman scream tore its way out of Stiles’ throat. Derek backpedaled out of the bathroom. The transformation was speeding up. Tawny fur crept over pale skin at first, and then faster as the final throws of transformation took.

When Stiles came out of the bathroom, it was on four paws, slithering out of the clothes that no longer fit. The tank top came last with a shake of the predator’s wide, wedge shaped head. An animal that didn’t belong in a New York apartment, let alone the Eastern United States—a jaguar. Derek had heard of people taking forms other than wolf when they took the bite or even a deep enough scratch from an Alpha. Taking the shape of their true nature. Somehow, Derek wasn’t surprised that Stiles’ nature was that of a cat. Independent, snarky, covered in spots—that was Stiles all right.

Of course, thinking that was one thing, facing Stiles as a jaguar was something else. He wasn’t entirely sure his wolf could take on the jungle predator successfully.

“Stiles.” Derek held up his hands. “I know you’re in there. I know you can smell me. I’m a friend. I won’t hurt you.”

Underneath the feral instincts driving the jaguar—at this point curiosity and annoyance for the most part—Stiles was still there. There had never been anyone to teach him to control the beast. He’d never put much thought into it. Never thought he could control it. The change came at random for the most part. How could he prepare for something like that? Control something like that?

But he could hear Derek. The jaguar growled and began to pace a wide circle around Derek.

“Stiles. You need to stop. You need to take control of your body. It _is_ your body Stiles. Don’t let the animal tell you otherwise.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you can’t control yourself, how do you expect to stop Peter?”

The jaguar snarled and Derek smirked.

“Even as an animal you just can’t help talking back, can you?”

Stiles wanted to make a snappy comeback, but with a cat’s tongue, as it were, all he could manage was another snarl. Except—he realized as he did so that _he_ had made it happen. The jaguar stopped pacing, tail twitching idly. Stiles lifted one paw up off the floor and stared down at it before sitting. He shook his head and looked at Derek.

_I see you Stiles,_ Derek thought.

“Come on now, change back. You control your own body and I don’t want to have to explain a non-indigenous predator in my apartment.”

Stiles shook his head. _I’m in control._ He _was_ in control. Derek’s words had come like a slap in the face. He’d been jostled into a human reaction and now…now he could feel the animal part of him pacing at the edge of his mind—where he’d been shoved not so long ago. Changing back though—that was a tall order. He didn’t know what made him change in the first place.

_Do I?_ His whiskers twitched. _Do I know how to change back?_ He had only the barest of memories regarding transforming back. Usually he blacked out. Usually he blacked out for the entire thing. Just let the cat do its thing and then he’d move on. Forget about it all until the change came again. He never could get a grip on it. He always had a plan for everything else but…how could you plan for turning into a monster?

“Stiles,” Derek snapped.

Stiles shook his head.

“You have to concentrate. Think about what it feels like to be human.” Derek noticed something on the jaguar’s hind leg, a spot that wasn’t a spot—it was that damn tattoo. Stiles’ jaguar form had taken on the shape of the tattoo. “Think about—kissing a girl. Eating pancakes. Reading a comic book. Human things.”

Stiles could get behind eating pancakes. Though he hadn’t been interested in kissing any girls since he and Lydia had become friends. She would always be the only girl he was interested in. For no logical reason Stiles could come up with his brain supplied with an alternative to kissing girls.

_Hands over my head, the cold steel of Derek’s handcuffs holding them there. Derek loomed over me, one strong hand on my waist and the other at the back of my neck. He growled softly and pressed his lips against mine, teeth grazing my bottom lip._

Well if that image wasn’t enough to make him shivering and stiffer than his homebrewed whiskey he didn’t know what was. Pain in the ass Derek Hale might be, but he was also seven kinds of sexy with a cherry on top. It wasn’t fair.

Derek watched for any sign Stiles was changing back—it was the eyes that went first. Shifting from jaguar gold to brown. The change back was like watching a butterfly work its way out of a cocoon. Stiles emerged from the jaguar as it sank back inside him. Leaving a naked, sweaty, teenager on the floor. Derek would be lying if he said he’d didn’t get a good look at the well defined muscles of Stiles’ legs and supple shape of his ass—but he looked away before getting an eyeful of anything else.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Stiles croaked. “I changed back.”

“Great. Now…put some clothes on.”

“Right. Sure. I’m just going to shower first. I smell like—dead cat.”

Derek heard Stiles get to his feet and pad into the bathroom. He waited until he heard the door close before turning around. There was no trace left of the transformation except a small smear of blood and sweat. The blood smelled like Stiles, human and cat. No surprise there. Derek cleaned it up while Stiles showered. For all his confidence earlier, Derek wasn’t really _completely_ certain how to handle a were-jaguar. He was pretty sure Peter’s proximity was forcing Stiles to change, which meant Peter’s Alpha nature was affecting Stiles in spite of him not becoming a wolf.

That could be a problem. If the Alpha connection was that strong, it would take Peter’s death to undo. Not that Derek had anything against killing his traitorous uncle but he wasn’t sure how his mother would take it. She loved her little brother, even if he was an asshole who tried to murder her whole family in a mad bid for power.

Peter had abandoned that plan and run off. No one saw him until two years ago when he came back to Beacon Hills with the blood of another Alpha on his hands, determined to take his place at the head of the Hale pack. Things didn’t go in his favor then either. Things weren’t going to go in his favor now.

Stiles came out of the bathroom with wet hair but fully dressed—barefoot though. Derek wasn’t sure why Stiles being barefoot mattered but…there was something very unseemly about it.

“I can’t believe I changed back,” Stiles said. “I mean I’ve changed back before obviously but—this time it was on purpose. This time I felt like I had some control. That’s never happened before.”

“Well, has anyone ever tried to bring you out of it before?”

“Now that you mention it—no. No one was dumb enough to stick around while a giant cat roamed around looking for a meal.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Now we just have to get you to change on purpose.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Why would you _want_ to become a powerful predator when you have another predator on your ass? I wonder.”

“Thank you captain sass-pants.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

Derek rolled his eyes and texted Scott. The doorbell rang. “That’s the pizza. With any luck, this will be the last bit of excitement this evening.”

Stiles’ mind wandered back to the image of Derek kissing him and flushed. “Yeah.”

_No more excitement._ He swallowed. _Thank god he can’t read my mind._

***

Stiles dreamt about Derek that night. The sort of dream that would make the Letters to the Editor for Penthouse look church friendly. He couldn’t even look at Derek that morning. The man did make good pancakes though. Which sent Stiles brain on a whole different level of kink he wasn’t completely ashamed of.

“All right punks, I have to go into work today,” Derek said while flipping the last pancake. “Ground rules. You don’t leave the apartment. You don’t invite anyone over and don’t open the door to anyone except myself or Mr. Argent. Clear?”

The teenagers rolled their eyes in near unison but agreed.

“All right, I’ll be back.” Derek turned off the burner and grabbed his jacket and heading out the door.

Stiles waited until he was sure Derek was gone before turning to Scott. “So…you want to search the apartment for video games and liquor?”

Scott shook his head and grinned. “You haven’t changed, have you?”

“Not in the ways that are important.” _At least, I hope not._

“Really, Stiles?” Lydia gave him a look. “You think he’s dumb enough to leave liquor around with us here?”

“Fair point,” Stiles replied. “We will have to find some other way of occupying ourselves until Detective Tight-pants comes back.”

“We could read,” Lydia pointed at the living room area where a pair of dark wood bookshelves flanked the entertainment center. “For a cop he has good taste in literature.”

“I need my computer back, that’s what I need,” Stiles said.

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “That would mean leaving the apartment, Stiles.”

“I am aware of that, thank you.” Stiles slung on a hoodie from the plastic crate he’d been keeping his clothes in. “Derek will never know I left, Lydia.”

She pursed her lips. “I refuse to be drawn in. Do whatever you like Stiles, but I want it to be made clear to Derek when he finds out that you did something you weren’t supposed to. Because he will find out Stiles.”

“Lydia has a point. He’s almost as bad as his mom. That lady can spot dishonesty and mischief a mile away.” Scott gave Stiles a look.

“I’ll be fine.” Stiles pulled on his sneakers and headed for the door. “Scott, watch Lydia okay. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Stiles—”

“I’ll be fine, Scott. Stay here.” Stiles flashed a confident smile and headed out.

Scott looked at Lydia. “Is he always like this?”

“Yes. Don’t worry though. Stiles is capable. He’ll come back.”

“Derek is going to kill him though.”

“Stiles might be a planner, but consequences aren’t his strong suit.” Lydia pulled a thick volume off the shelf. “He’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

Scott would worry anyway though. He’d just reunited with his best friend—he didn’t want to lose him again.

_He’ll be back,_ Scott thought. _He’ll be back._

***

Stiles made his way back to the tenement. Retrieving his lap top was only half the reason he left Derek’s. Honestly, he wasn’t totally sure how to act around Scott and then there was the whole jaguar thing. He needed some time to think—alone. There hadn’t been much alone time for him since Derek took them in.  He missed the quiet. He missed being independent. He didn’t miss being hungry or pick pocketing people for cash to get by.

No one had disturbed the apartment. Stiles had spent a lot of time making people believe terrible things happened there. His occasionally transformation into a giant cat helped the rumor mill and people stayed away.

Stiles grabbed a bag and packed his computer and a few of Lydia’s favorite books with a few shirts for padding. He took a few minutes to just sit on his bed and say goodbye to the place. Everything was changing. The last time things had changed, it hadn’t been for the better. Stiles hoped this time was different. He was tired of running.

He just wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go home either. He hadn’t seen his dad in two years. How was he going to explain that? How was he going to explain any of this? He took a deep breath and sighed. _Time to get back then._ He locked the place up as he left. A whole part of his life was over and he wasn’t sure what the next part was going to look like. At least he’d had some comfort knowing each day would be pretty much the same as the last. He didn’t have that now.

Stiles took the subway back to Derek’s place. The subway felt strange. Foreboding even. The hair stood up on the back of his neck the moment he set foot on the platform. There weren’t all that many people around. Not unusual for the area or the time of day but Stiles still felt uneasy.

Someone was watching him. Stiles looked around until he spotted a face he very much did not want to see. A blue eyed man with dark hair and broad shoulders. Late twenties to mid-thirties, it was always hard to gauge his age. He smiled and Stiles felt a chill run down his scalp and then his back like fingers.

“I’ve got you.”

Stiles could hear the voice like a whisper in his ear. He shuddered. He heard the whistle of the train and stepped up to the edge of the platform. He knew he couldn’t outrun Peter. He closed his eyes for a moment and looked at the tunnel wall opposite the platform. There was a thin ledge there for maintenance workers.

He swallowed and the train whistle came again. Stiles felt the change again. It was different this time. It was like he could feel the strength of the animal inside rolling through his bones. He didn’t think twice, he looked at Peter, and then at the train.

And then he jumped.


	7. Walk through the Valley

Stiles hit the ledge and crashed into the wall. He flung his arms out and clutched the wall tight as the train rolled into the station. He took a few breaths to recover before taking off along the ledge. He didn’t know the tunnels very well, but if he followed this one he could make the next platform.

Back on the platform, Peter Hale raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Run all you want, kitty. You’re mine this time.”

Stiles kept moving, surprised at his speed. He felt Peter at the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure if the wolf could jump over the train and he wasn’t about to wait to find out. He stuck as close to the wall as he could and tried not to think too much about being caught. He hadn’t told the whole story to Derek or the Argents. He hadn’t told the whole story to anyone. Lydia knew some of it, but she’d been there with him every step of the way.

The truth was, Peter had lost interest in Lydia a long time ago. She hadn’t gotten the gift of transformation after all. Just Stiles and Scott. Scott had the protection of the Hale pack right off but Stiles had run. He was good at running. He’d had Lydia to worry about right off and Peter had practically driven the trio out of Beacon Hills. Well, Peter and the creepers. After Jackson was separated from the group, Stiles started to notice a pattern in the attacks. Peter wasn’t going after Lydia anymore. Just Stiles. Always Stiles.

The last time Peter had shown up, three months ago in Brooklyn, he’d almost gotten what he came for. Lydia didn’t know how close. Stiles had changed the night before and spent stalking the abandoned warehouse he and Lydia were squatting in at the time. Peter had shown up the morning after when Stiles woke up naked and confused in some bushes in a neighborhood park two blocks away from the warehouse.

 

“Good morning,” Peter said. “Busy night?”

Stiles scrambled to his feet, torn between running from the bushes as fast as he could and how he’d totally get arrested for running around the city naked.

“Peter. I guess it would be useless for me to tell you to get the fuck away from me?”

Peter smiled. “Stiles, you’ll never get away from me. I gave you power. You’re mine. _Mine._ ”

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not a werewolf, you can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to feel imposing. “You might as well walk away right now.”

“All I have to do is bite you, Stiles. Fix that independent streak of yours for good.”

“You could have any fucking teenager you want to turn into a pack. Why are you so damn fixated on me? You could have built an army by now. Why am I so important?”

“You’re the first, Stiles. You’ll always be important. If I can’t have you—well. I won’t finish that cliché.” Peter stepped forward and Stiles backed away, eventually backing straight into a tree. Peter smiled, putting arms on either side of Stiles’ shoulders, blocking him in. “You’re mine. My pack.”

Stiles swallowed. “Never.”

Peter bared his teeth, partially transformed. He leaned forward, head bending to bite Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles acted out of instinct. He shoved at Peter and kicked the man between the legs as hard as he could before rolling away to the left. Without missing a beat he shouted. “Help! Pervert!” He scrambled away as quick as he could, shouting the same refrain.

He ran straight into a uniformed officer outside the park. “Sir, this guy—he attacked me. He took my clothes and…” Stiles managed a few tears for effect. “He’s back there.” He pointed wildly.

“Wait here,” the officer stripped off his windbreaker and pressed it onto Stiles. “I’ll be right back.”

Stiles put the windbreaker on and waited until the officer was out of sight before taking off again. Peter was long gone by the time the officer got there and he never saw his windbreaker again.

Stiles still had the damn thing at the apartment.

 

He reached the next platform and headed out of the tunnel and up to the street. He took a moment to get his bearings and then set off again as fast as he dared to go. He wasn’t completely sure Peter wasn’t still following him. He took the most roundabout way he could think of to lose Peter until even the faintest trace of him was gone from Stiles’ mind.

By the time he’d lost Peter, the sun was setting. He was so much later then he’d meant to be. Stiles buzzed up to Derek’s apartment. Scott opened the door for him when he got there.

“Damn, you’re cutting it close you know?” Scott shook his head. “What took so long?”

“I—I ran into Peter in the subway.” Stiles walked into the living room and set the bag down next to his bed.

“Did he follow you?” Lydia asked, getting up from the couch.

“He tried.” Stiles swallowed. “But I got away.” Stiles took a deep breath and realized he was hungry. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What was so damn important on that laptop anyway?” Lydia asked.

Stiles looked at her. “Well, an incredibly thorough and extensive porn collection for one.” He sat down on the bed and pulled the computer out, powering it up. “Besides, I feel useless without her.”

“Her?” Scott said.

“What?” Stiles shrugged broadly. “Lola and I have a deep bond the likes of which you will never understand.”  He caressed his laptop.

Lydia rolled her eyes dramatically. “I think Scott understand completely.”

Scott sniffed at Stiles. “I can smell Peter on you. How close did he get?”

“Like—a hundred feet? Not that close.”

Scott sniffed again. “Well, you might want to take a shower or put on some cologne because if Derek smells Peter on you he’s going to know something is up.”

Stiles shifted away from Scott. “Please stop sniffing me. It’s freaking me out.” Stiles opened up the web browser on his laptop and cracked the WiFi password. _Bigbadwolf, really Derek?_ “I’ve got some internet friends that believe in the spooky and magical things. They’ve been tracking Peter’s movements.”

Sure enough, someone had flagged a photo of Peter from a traffic camera.

“Is that from a surveillance camera?” Scott asked.

“Some of them have jobs,” Stiles replied. “I wish I’d had this before I left the apartment and that’s why I need Lola.”

“Fair enough. Still, shower, cologne. Something.”

Stiles put the computer away and stood up. “I’m on it.” He ducked into the bathroom and looked around the medicine cabinet before coming up with some aftershave. He splashed a bit on and came out. “Better?”

Scott sniffed. “Better.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to play some violent video games.” Stiles got back on his computer. “Let me know when there’s food.”

“Your logic is flawed, Stiles,” Lydia said.

“Huh?” He glanced over at her.

“You changed, duh. Peter had to be nearby. You knew that when you left and now you’re just trying to rationalize because you know Derek is going to be pissed off at you.”

Stiles swallowed. “Gee, thanks.”

Scott snorted. “She’s awesome.”

“I hate you both.” Stiles turned his attention back to his computer and tried to pretend there was no one else in the room. He wasn’t very successful.

A few hours of video games and the occasional remark from Scott and Lydia later, Derek returned home. He locked his gun up right off and then eyed the teenagers.

“What have you all been up to?”

Lydia had been on the streets too long to rat Stiles out, and Scott was his best friend, but Stiles ended up giving himself away by overlooking one rather important detail.

The laptop.

Derek looked at Stiles for a long moment. The teenager went very red and closed the lid of the computer deliberately.

“Not much,” Stiles replied. “You know. Just sitting around the apartment.”

Derek wasn’t quite sure how take such an obvious lie. He looked at Lydia and Scott, they looked away. Derek turned his full attention on Stiles.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Derek crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Stiles. It was a look all police officers seemed to learn, at least that was Stiles’ experience. His father was particularly good at it, and so was Derek.

“Is that an actual question?” Stiles returned.

“Why are you wearing aftershave?” Derek asked after a long moment.

“I had to shave.”

“You plan on sticking to that story?”

“Yes?”

Before Derek could continue his phone rang. He answered it. “Hale.”

Stiles couldn’t make out the person on the other end, as Derek walked to the opposite side of the loft. He looked over at his friends, but they were trying to look busy. Lydia had stuck her nose in a book and Scott was fiddling with his phone.

 _Some help they are,_ Stiles thought.

Derek finished his phone call and came back. “That was Chris Argent, he picked up Deaton and they’re headed here. We can have a war meeting.” He looked at Stiles. “First though, I want to know exactly where you were while I was at work.”

“Uh…” Stiles considered his options. “Here?”

“You know I know you’re lying. Your heartbeat gives you away.” Derek stepped up to the edge of the bed and looked down at Stiles. “I know you left the apartment.”

“I needed my laptop. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing?”

“Yup.” Stiles was working on the theory that shorter answers would be more difficult to discern dishonesty.

This was not the case.

Stiles wasn’t even sure why he wasn’t telling Derek everything, other than the vague sense that he didn’t want to disappoint him. Well that and he’d rather not be handcuffed again.

Derek frowned. “You got to the count of three and then I’m going to get mad.” He held up one finger. “One.” Two fingers. “Two.”

“Geeze, all right. I ran into Peter. He didn’t follow me here. Everything is fine.”

Derek nodded very slowly and grabbed a black cuff out of his pocket. “I borrowed this from a friend. Parole office. I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t need it but since I can’t trust you I guess I have no other choice.”

“Wow, come on. I mean, that’s overkill.”

“Look at this way, if Peter kidnaps you I’ll be able to find you. It was either this or talking to a vet about one of those lost pet tracking chips.”

Stiles swallowed, not entirely sure Derek was joking. “Fine.”

Derek knelt down and Stiles pulled up his pant leg. Derek snapped the cuff around his ankle and a small green light came on. “The light turns red when you’re out of bounds and I get a text message.”

“Yay.”

“All right. I’m ordering Chinese. Any requests?” Derek stood up and walked away. Stiles watched him walk away. There was another reason he’d gone after his laptop. He didn’t want pity or anything from the others, so he hadn’t mentioned it but… The only pictures he had of his family were on the computer. A single digitized image he’d pulled from an email account of him and his mom and dad, and then more recent photos of his dad he’d pulled from news articles and Google searches. Stiles got homesick more often than he would admit.

He missed his dad. The pictures…they were his lifeline when his world felt like it was falling apart. Like it had been recently. Maybe this Deaton guy would know how to stop the creepers. Maybe he’d know how to stop Peter. Maybe in a week, or two, or even a month Stiles would be able to go home. Be able to hug his dad. He wanted that more than anything.

And he wasn’t about to tell _that_ to Detective Sourwolf. _That’s a good nickname_. Stiles thought. _He might kill me if I call him that though._

“All right. Dinner will be here soon,” Derek said.

Stiles shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded absently.

Derek came back over to Stiles’ bed. “Before I forget, give me the laptop.”

Stiles blinked and clutched it to his chest. “You can’t take Lola!”

“You start listening to me and you’ll get it back. Now, Stiles.” Derek was giving him the patented law enforcement glare again.  

Stiles sighed and handed Derek the laptop.

“Is it password protected?” Derek asked.

“Why, are you planning on reading my diary?” Stiles snapped.

“Stiles.”

“Yes. It’s password protected.” Stiles sulked a bit.

Derek put the laptop up on top of the bookshelf, which meant if Stiles wanted to get it he’d have to get a step stool given that Derek was a bit taller than him. _Bastard._

Stiles felt like a kid whose mom put the cookies on the highest shelf. Of course Stiles was also the kid who waited until his mom was out of the house to build an unsteady ladder of chairs and kitchen appliances to retrieve the cookies.

“You know I’m just trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed, right?” Derek looked at Stiles, eyebrow quirked.

Stiles wrinkled his nose and muttered something vaguely affirmative.

 _Teenagers,_ Derek thought. _I hope I was never this bad. I was probably worse._

“All right then.”

The whole loft was awash with awkward tension. Lydia put her book down and stood up from the couch and started for the bathroom. She stopped halfway, a blank expression settling over her. Stiles was on his feet in a flash, sliding up behind her just before she collapsed to the floor and started to scream.

“Did she take her medication today?” Stiles asked.

“She took something,” Scott said.

Stiles took a deep breath and pulled Lydia upright and slapped her. “Lydia!” _She’s not having an episode…she’s sensed someone is going to die._ Stiles didn’t want to know that but he’d been around her too long not to. The last time it had just been some random homeless guy who got in Peter’s way but now? Now they had people on their side. They had put those people in harm’s way and now Lydia had sensed death coming.

Lydia didn’t know who was going to die, she never did, but the slap roused from her keening. She looked into Stiles’ eyes. “Not again.”

“It’ll be fine,” he promised. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“What’s going on?” Derek demanded.

Stiles looked up at him. “Someone is going to die.”


	8. A Bond

With that ominous pronouncement hanging in the air, the door bell rang. Derek answered the bell and a few minutes later the Argents came up, an African American man in tow that could only be the mysterious Deaton. He was a bit shorter than Derek, but muscular with a well groomed mustache and goatee making him look more scholarly than villainous. He wore a black leather jacket a price bracket above the one Derek wore, a black shirt and jeans.

With Chris and Allison also in leather jackets, Stiles was starting to feel a bit left out, but he had a thing for red and he was pretty sure a red leather jacket would cost more than he could afford.

“I heard a scream,” Deaton said. “Death is coming?”

Lydia nodded. “Someone is going to die. I can feel it.”

“Peter must be getting impatient. Has something happened?” Deaton asked.

Derek glanced at Stiles. “Someone went on a field trip today and ran into Peter.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You make it sound so much worse than it actually was.”

“I don’t actually know how it was, you didn’t tell the whole story,” Derek replied. “Why don’t you do that now? I’m sure the details will help us find him later.”

Stiles was pretty sure telling anyone that he’d jumped in front of a subway train was going to get him into trouble. He was already less one laptop and stuck in a GPS tracking anklet though, he wasn’t sure there was anything else Derek could do at this point.

“I ran into him in the subway. The train came before he could get any closer. I ran. That’s it.”

Derek took a deep breath. “Withholding information is the same thing as lying, Stiles.”

“No it’s not.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“What? It doesn’t matter how I got away.”

“It matters if you don’t want to tell me how you did it. Which means you did something either stupid or dangerous. Knowing you it was both.”

“I take offense to such a blanket statement regarding my character.”

“Stiles.”

“Fine. A train was coming and Peter was right there so I sort of jumped across the tracks to the far wall and took the tunnel to the next station.”

“You jumped. Across live tracks. In front of a train.” Derek was having a hard time believing what he was hearing.  

Everyone was staring at Stiles like he had done something spectacularly dangerous. He had, of course, but he preferred it if no one else thought so.

“What? You’re the one that said I control my body. I don’t think I was in any real danger. I mean, come one, I made it and all.”

Derek blinked. “I don’t see how doing something that stupid falls into my advice about your shifting.” He looked at Deaton. “How common are were-jaguars?”

Deaton raised an eyebrow and looked Stiles over. “Rare. It takes a particularly independent spirit to take that shape. You have your hands full with that one.”

“You have no idea,” Derek sighed. “Lydia, why don’t you tell Deaton all about the creepers? Stiles, I’ll need you to point out on a map where you last saw Peter.”

“Fine.” Stiles got to his feet and shuffled over to the kitchen table. He sat down and Derek laid out a map of the subway system. “It was there.”

“That’s not far from here,” Chris said.

“Eventually he’ll make a move here,” Derek said. “At least, if he still wants Stiles.”

“He hasn’t followed me around this long to give up now,” Stiles said. “Which is why we have to kill him. Well, that and he’s a murderer.”

“You know I’m a cop, right?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “You’re a werewolf first.”

“Wait,” Scott interrupted. “Stiles isn’t even a werewolf, Lydia isn’t either, so why is Peter so fixated on them?”

Stiles had been dreading the moment someone asked that question.

“I mean, he could just make a pack and move on. Why hasn’t he?”

Stiles felt Derek’s eyes on him as his heartbeat sped up. “Stiles? Do you know something?”

“I—I asked him that the last time I saw him. In Brooklyn.” Stiles took a breath. “If he can bite me then I’ll be a werewolf.” He looked Derek in the eyes. “I’ll be his.”

Derek’s eyes flashed gold. Anger, certainly, but there was something else driving the predator to the surface…territory. _Stiles is mine._ The wolf said. _Mine._ Derek swallowed and brought himself back under control.

“I won’t let that happen, Stiles.”

“Oh good, because I’m pretty sure he’s got nefarious intentions.”

Derek’s cell phone rang. “Damn it. That’s work.” He excused himself and went out into the hallway to take the call. “Hale.”

“It’s Sheriff Stilinksi, Beacon Hills. I was just calling to see if you got any new information about those runaways.”

_Shit._

“Nothing concrete just yet, sir. I have some promising leads.”

“I would like to know, then, why it is Scott McCall is in New York?”        

Derek blinked. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Right. So explain why your mother drove him to the airport?”

Derek considered all of his options carefully. “She did? Well I haven’t spoken to her in a couple weeks. Maybe he’s looking at a college? Did you ask _his_ mom?”

“Melissa hasn’t been forthcoming and I’m getting the feeling you ‘re giving me the runaround, Derek.  I would like to remind you that I’ve known you your whole life and I know when you aren’t telling me everything.”

There wasn’t anything Derek could say to refute that. “You just need to trust me. Please. I promise I’ll let you know the minute I have any information.”

“You’ve got two days, and then I’m coming to New York.”

“Yes, sir.”

Derek hung up and took a deep breath. _A deadline, just what I needed._ Derek went back inside the apartment and found a lively enough planning session in progress.

“Is everything all right?” Deaton asked.

“Fine. Nothing to worry about. Where are we?”

“We’ve come to the conclusion that baiting him is the quickest way to bring him out,” Chris said.

“There are a few abandoned buildings around here,” Allison pointed them out on the map, “We want to set them with traps. Stiles agreed to be bait.”

Derek wasn’t surprised. It seemed to him that Stiles was a bit suicidal. His overriding urge was to lock him in a nice safe place until all of this was over. He didn’t think that would actually work, but he wasn’t sure how else he was going to keep the kid safe. Derek didn’t want to think about what Sheriff Stilinski would do to him if he got Stiles killed before father and son could reunite.

“That’s the best plan you’ve managed to come up with?” Derek asked.

“It’s not the entire plan,” Deaton said. “First things first, we need to eliminate the creepers. I believe what we’re dealing with are a kind of apparition. Normally these beings don’t interact with the living world, but when Stiles and Lydia died and were brought back the power of the Alpha’s mark affected them. Gave them a window into a world we aren’t meant to see. Once they could see the creatures, the creatures could see them.

“We have to close that window.”

“And how exactly do we do that?” Chris asked.

“We need to put Stiles and Lydia into a trance at which point I should be able to close the window.”

“A trance?” Derek raised his eyebrows. “What kind of trance?” The last time Deaton had put someone into a trance, it was Derek’s sister Laura, and he wasn’t keen on putting Stiles or Lydia in ice water baths. Stiles might be all right with his second nature, but Lydia didn’t have that protection.

Deaton looked at Derek. “I have an herbal concoction. I burn it and they’ll breathe in the smoke.”

“All right,” Stiles said. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“There is the risk that you won’t wake up,” Deaton said. “You can get lost in your own mind.”

“I think I have more fear of that than Stiles, not much to get lost in,” Lydia remarked with a smile.

Stiles gave her a look. “Thanks, so much.”

“To help prevent that from happening, someone will act as an anchor for you while you’re in the trance. I’d advise picking someone you have a close bond with. Someone you trust.”

Stiles’ first instinct wasn’t Scott. He glanced toward Derek and quickly away.

“We should start as soon as possible,” Deaton said.

“Of course.” Derek couldn’t disagree, not with the sheriff’s deadline. “Stiles? Lydia?”

“Why not?” Lydia said.

“If I have to,” Stiles said.

“All right then, let’s get started.”

***

Half an hour later Deaton had Stiles and Lydia reclining on a single mattress surrounded by a ring of salt and ash with Allison to anchor Lydia and Scott for Stiles. He took a bundle of dried herbs and cut a portion into the end of a long wooden pipe.

“Take a single pull from the pipe,” he instructed. “Then relax.”

He lit the pipe and handed it to Lydia. She took her breath and almost immediately her eyes glazed over and her body went limp.

Stiles took the pipe next and followed her into unconsciousness.

Derek felt his stomach twist in a sudden fit of nerves. _Stiles will be fine,_ he thought. Chris stayed close to the kids, while Derek paced away. He wasn’t sure how long it would take but an hour of pacing later the trance still held. Half worried and half bored, Derek got Stiles computer down and made a few attempts at cracking the kid’s password.

It took him four tries. _Sherlocked? Really? This kid watches too much TV._

Derek browsed through the files. The kid had a very large collection of porn, not surprising. The content of the pornography however…Derek couldn’t help but notice that Stiles’ tastes bent toward muscular men. Dangerous looking, gun toting and motorcycle riding men.

And then he found the file with Stiles’ family pictures. The carefully saved articles that even bore passing mention of his father. Derek closed the laptop and put it back. _He misses his dad more than he’d ever say, doesn’t he?_

Another hour passed by and Lydia came out of her trance. She stretched and yawned. “I feel—different.” She blinked. “Everything looks brighter.”

Derek figured Stiles would be right on Lydia’s heels but five minutes went by, and then ten and then thirty—and an hour with no sign of him rousing. “Shouldn’t he be coming around?” Derek asked.

Deaton frowned. “I was more worried about Lydia, she’s known Allison such a short time, but Scott should be a firm anchor for Stiles. He should have come around first.”

“Never underestimate the power of two girls bonding while shopping,” Lydia said. She looked at Stiles and Derek could see worry in her eyes.

 _Come on Stiles,_ he thought. _Come back._

***

Stiles was lost in what looked like Manhattan, but he knew it couldn’t be. There was fog everywhere, and no people at all. He walked down the middle of the street with no real idea how long he’d been wandering. He was beginning to tire of the monotony of glass and steel and concrete when he found himself in Central Park. The fog wasn’t as thick in the park. It seemed wilder than Stiles remembered it being. There was an air of menace and Stiles felt eyes watching him.

The deeper he went, the more wild the park became. Trees that had no business in North America, jungle trees draped in vines, tropical flowers and an overwhelming humidity. Stiles was human in one moment, and in the next he found himself on four legs. He climbed into a tree and laid down along one wide branch. He could hear birds crying and monkeys.

And then—he heard a wolf howl. His whiskers twitched and his tail thrashed. A wolf had no place in his jungle. He pushed himself off the branch and jumped from his branch into another tree. The wolf howled again. Stiles continued along the tree tops, drawing closer to the sound of the wolf howling.

A black wolf paced the width of a clearing covered in thick moss. Stiles responded to the wolf’s howl with a roar. The wolf paused and looked up. He barked sharply and Stiles responded with a snarl. The wolf barked again, more demanding.

Stiles chirped, more curious now than anything else. He slithered down the tree, coming to a stop on a thick root some feet from the ground. Stiles chirped again. The wolf cocked his head to one side and barked, more softly this time and then whined. Stiles hopped down from the root and crept forward, placing one careful paw at a time until he was a whisker’s width from the wolf. After a moment of mutual staring, the wolf pressed his nose against Stiles’ nose.

_Derek?_

_Come back, Stiles._

Stiles felt all the muscles in his body shudder as he became human again. Derek followed. Stiles was more than impressed with his mind’s interpretation of a naked Derek. He wasn’t sure what to stare at first. The perfect torso, the shoulders, the sharp relief of collarbone…or other places. Stiles settled for Derek’s eyes in the end, for safety reasons.

“Derek?”

“You have to wake up now, Stiles.”

“But this is such a good dream.”

“This isn’t a dream, Stiles. We’re in your head. You need to come out before you’re trapped here forever.”

Stiles shook his head. “What are you doing in my head?”

“I’m here because you want me to be here.”

Stiles couldn’t completely argue with that logic, given a few late-night fantasies he’d had but…this was different. He felt like Derek was really here. Except naked. Not that that was a bad thing. Not at all.

“How do I wake up?”

“You have to take hold of your anchor, the person holding you to the real world and pull yourself out.”

“Shouldn’t Scott be here then?”

Derek shrugged.

Stiles took a deep breath. “I guess—I guess you are my anchor then.” Stiles closed the distance between them and hesitantly put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Damn.”

“It’s strange what can happen in such a short time,” Derek said. “A bond can form. It’s still new, but it’s strong.”

Stiles nodded. “What do I do now?”

“What do you think you should do?” Derek asked.

Stiles instincts were pointing in a clear direction. “Someday, we’re going to do this in real life. Just so you know. You know, once you’ve stopped treating me like a stupid kid.”

Derek smiled. “I’m just afraid you’ll get hurt.”

“I can protect myself.”

“That doesn’t make me any less afraid.”

Stiles swallowed and put his other hand on Derek’s cheek. “I know.” Hands shaking, Stiles pressed his lips against Derek’s. Derek put his hands in Stiles hair.

The kiss was soft and gentle, not what Stiles would have pictured, but it’s what he needed in that moment. He pressed his body against Derek’s and deepened the kiss, holding on as tight as he could.

And then he woke up.


	9. Deadlines

Stiles opened his eyes and the room at large breathed in relief.

“Welcome back,” Scott said. “You okay?”

“I feel—different,” Stiles replied. “Is everything really bright or is that just me?”

“The window is closed now,” Deaton said. “Your vision should no longer be colored by the otherworld and its inhabitants can no longer harm you.”

“Great.” Stiles managed to sit up and looked for Derek. He was standing just a few feet away, staring at Stiles. Stiles looked him in the eyes. Had that been real? Had Derek been in his head? Derek flushed slightly and looked away. _That was so real. Oh my god. I kissed him. I saw him naked. Oh my god._ “Now what?”

“Now, you eat and get to bed. We have a werewolf to take down tomorrow night,” Derek said. “Well, technically today, this evening. It’s past midnight now.”

“Right,” Stiles said. “Okay.” He managed to get to his feet and stumbled over to the kitchen table. The rest of the gang had already eaten but there was still plenty. He snagged a box of short ribs and another of lo mein and grabbed a pair of chopsticks.

Deaton sat down next to him. “Derek tells me you seem to transform only when Peter gets close to you.”

“Yeah.” Stiles stuffed food into his mouth and chewed.

“That suggests a strong bond between the two of you.”

Stile swallowed. “It’s hate. He’s chased me across the continent. I haven’t been able to go home because who knows what he’d do to my dad? Whatever he thinks there is between us is all in his own deranged head.”

“Nevertheless, there is a bond. Have you ever tried to transform on your own?”

“Seeing how I only managed to change back on purpose for the first time a couple days ago—no.”

“You should probably work on that,” Deaton said.

“I’ll put it on my calendar.” Stiles finished his food. “I’m going to bed now so…” Stiles stood up. “Night.”

Derek watched Stiles stumble over to his bed and collapse. _That damn kid…_

“Derek,” Deaton called. “Could I have a word?”

“Sure.” Derek followed Deaton out into the hall. Allison had opted to stay over, but Chris followed them out and headed to his hotel.

“You acted as Stiles anchor.” Deaton looked Derek in the eyes. “The two of you have established quite a bond in a short period of time.”

“I—I was in his head, wasn’t I?”

“You were.” Deaton acknowledged. “Stiles knows that too. I saw the look he gave you, Derek. What exactly is going on between you?”

“Nothing. I mean. He’s a kid.”

“He’s almost eighteen,” Deaton replied. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I feel—I feel like he’s my responsibility. I have to protect him. The wolf though…”

“The wolf is telling you there is more to it than that.” Deaton smirked.

“You could say that.”

“Just be careful, he’s been through a lot.”

“I know.”

“And his father will kill you.”

“I know.” Derek took a breath. “Worse. His dad called me. If he doesn’t get something from me in two days, he’s coming here on the next flight.”

Deaton grimaced. “John isn’t going to be patient. He knows something is up, Derek. We have to hurry.”

“I guess we’re setting that trap tonight then.”

“We have to. What about work?”

Derek didn’t want to admit he’d been neglecting his job. “I’ll take leave. I can’t afford to have my attention split right now.”

“Very well. I’ll see you tonight. Be careful.”

“I will.” Derek said goodbye and went back inside. The teenagers were asleep. He padded over to Stiles’ bed and looked down at him. Soft strands of hair fell across Stiles’ forehead. Derek could still see him as he was in Stiles’ headspace.

The jaguar Stiles became was a sleek, beautiful creature and when that jaguar had shifted into human form that sleek beauty wasn’t left behind. The Stiles he had seen there was more dangerous. Confident. He knew exactly how to use the power inside. He was in control. That confidence and power…that was incredibly attractive.

The real world Stiles was awkward and uncertain, but also incredibly attractive.

Derek wasn’t sure which version of Stiles he preferred. He was sort of looking forward to seeing the awkward Stiles grow into his confident mental image. Helping him grow…Derek swallowed and quickly walked away.

_I am so screwed._

***

“Derek?”

He shook his head and opened his eyes, rolling over to see who had woken him up. “Allison?”

“Hey.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I—I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Okay.” He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I want you to know I don’t hate you. I mean, I know we barely know each other but—we’re family. I don’t want us to be strangers.”She managed a smile. “Is that okay?”

Derek smiled. “I’d like that.” He looked around. “I’m going to make pancakes. I could use some help.”

“I’d love to help.”

Derek liked having another sister. He had three already, but they could use someone else to bother besides him. The only brother figure he’d had was Peter, and look what happened there. Now he had Scott. The McCall family had become part of the Hale clan because Scott got bit, but bite or blood, family was family.

He glanced over at Stiles. _Family._ After tonight, Stiles would be able to go home. They’d stop Peter once and for all. He could be with his dad again. Go back to Beacon Hills, finish school. Derek would see him when he went home for holidays and all of this would fade into memory.

_That’s the way it should be._

After breakfast, which was really lunch, Deaton and Chris arrived.

“You ready to set this trap?” Chris asked. He had a large bag with him.

“The sooner the better,” Derek replied. “What’s in the bag?”

“Supplies. Allison, I got a crossbow for you.” He set the bag on the couch. “Lydia, do you know how to use any weapons?”

“Stiles taught me to shoot, and I can wield a baseball bat.”

Eyes turned toward Stiles, who was washing the dishes. “What? My dad took me to the range a few times.”

“I think the better question, is where did you get a gun and do you still have one?” Derek asked.

“I lost it in…Boston. That was months ago. Had to ditch it when some cops stopped us for hitchhiking.”

Derek sighed. “I guess I’m better off not knowing where you got it in the first place. I’m not comfortable giving kids firearms.”

“I’m going to have to agree with you there,” Chris said. He dug a collapsible night stick from the bag and handed it to Lydia. “Stick close to Allison.”

“Okay.”

“I’m the bait, shouldn’t I get a weapon?”

“You are a weapon,” Derek replied. “Remember?”

“That doesn’t make me feel safer.” Stiles finished up the dishes. “I’ve never changed on my own.”

“You just have to relax and think about what it feels like to be a jaguar. It’s just like when you changed back into yourself.” Derek looked him in the eyes. “You’d be surprised what a person can do when they have to.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Stiles returned. “I’ve been facing that monster for two years! I’ve protected Lydia. I’ve protected myself. I’ve kept us fed and safe. Me. Then you come in and act like I’m some stupid kid who can’t defend himself and now you’re telling me I can change if I put my mind to it? Do you know how long I’ve been terrified of changing? I mean, bone-numbing fear, Derek. Make up your mind. I’m either a child or I’m not.” Stiles wasn’t sure where the outburst came from, but he thought perhaps it had been building for some time now. Then there was the kiss. He wanted Derek to see him as an adult.

He wanted to feel like an adult but at the same time—he was mourning the loss of innocence he could never get back. Trying to forget how hard it was to survive these years on the run.

Derek took a breath and closed the distance between himself and Stiles. He hesitated for a brief moment and then pulled Stiles into his arms. He thought at first Stiles would push away, but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. “I don’t mean to make you feel…I’m sorry.” Everyone else in the room chose that moment to find some other way of occupying their time. Derek pulled away after a moment and looked down at the floor. “I just—I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That makes two of us,” Stiles muttered. “I’m sorry too. I know I can be a pain in the ass.”

“I’ll try to be less. You know.”

“Okay. I’ll try to think before I act.”

Stiles had a feeling this was just the precursor to a bigger fight that neither one of them was willing to have just yet. It would have to wait until the danger had passed but it was going to happen. There was just—Stiles wanted to make Derek treat him like an adult and Derek, for his part, wanted to see Stiles grow up. He knew Stiles was hurt and broken in ways that would take time to fix, but Derek wanted to take the time. His wolf, on the other hand, thought there was a short cut. _Sex isn’t a short cut._ Derek knew that. Sex didn’t magically make anything better. He still wanted it.

_He’d be better off with his family,_ Derek thought again. _Wouldn’t he?_

Stiles was just as confused as Derek was, but he chose to focus on the issue at hand. “All right, where are setting up this trap then?”

Deaton waved him over to the kitchen table. “Here,” he pointed out the location on the map. “You’ll take position…”

Derek watched Stiles as Deaton went over the plan. Scott slid up beside him. “So. You and Stiles, huh?”

“Nothing’s happened,” Derek replied.

“If you hurt him, I’ll tell your mom,” Scott replied, patting Derek’s shoulder. “And then I’ll beat the crap out of you.” He flashed a smile.

Derek blinked, but he didn’t doubt Scott was sincere. “I’ll keep it mind.”

Scott moved off to talk to Allison and Derek was sure he saw the signs of budding romance in the way Scott put his hand on her arm.

_We’re going to kill my uncle tonight,_ Derek thought. _I wish that bothered me more._ Except the Peter he knew as a child had changed. He’d gone mad with power. Tried to kill his family. It was going to be hard but they couldn’t just let Peter continue killing people. Continue chasing after Stiles. Ruining the kid’s life. Ruining Lydia’s life.

It would all end tonight

***

They took the subway and set their trap for Peter. A warehouse near Stiles’ and Lydia’s tenement had been empty for years and made the perfect location. Deaton laid down an open circle of ash and took position to close it once Peter entered. Chris, Allison, Lydia and Derek took up positions on the catwalks high above and Stiles—Stiles was the bait.

He found an old three wheeled office chair and sat in it, spinning when he got bored.

The warehouse was used once for the manufacture of ski equipment. There were broken bits of it here and there. Bits of downy fluff from weatherproofing drifted with the dust in the light from the windows. Most of them broken and boarded up against vandals. Not that it stopped the vandals. Even Stiles had tagged this building. His trademark yellow smiley face staring down at him from the windows of the offices at the north end of the building. The floor was a mix of concrete and peeling linoleum. They could have picked a worse place for a showdown. At least no one would interrupt them here.

As the warehouse grew dark with the setting sun, Stiles found he could still see and in the back of his mind he knew it was an effect of the jaguar lurking beneath the surface of his skin. Peter was coming.

Stiles took a deep breath and got out of the chair. _This time, you aren’t walking away._  


	10. Breaking Free

Derek was nearest the entrance when Peter came into sight. He hadn’t seen his uncle since the fire. He couldn’t believe how much older he looked. Peter was focused on Stiles. Deaton had hidden himself from werewolves, Derek couldn’t even sense him, but he did feel it when the ash circle was closed, locking them inside the warehouse. Peter strolled up toward Stiles and stopped  a few yards away. Derek dropped to the floor and crept into position behind his uncle.

Stiles looked Peter in the eyes. “This is the last time, Peter.”

“Does that mean you’re going to stop running away from me?”

“I guess you could say that.” Stiles could feel the animal inside him clawing to the surface. “I’m definitely done running.” He remembered how it felt when he took control of the jaguar and came back to himself. He remembered the strength he’d felt in those muscles. The power in every breath he took.

Stiles stripped his shirt off and set it down on the office chair. “I’m finishing this.” He stumbled out of his shoes and socks.

“Stripping for me? Oh, how sweet.”

Stiles shook his head. “You wish.” He pulled off his jeans. At which point Derek realized Stiles wasn’t wearing any underwear.

_Well._

Stiles concentrated on his other form and felt his bones begin to shift. His muscles cramped. He didn’t fight it this time. He left the change roll over him.

Peter looked surprised. “Changing on your own now? My. My. Has my nephew been teaching you new tricks?”

Stiles snarled and with a bone-numbing roar, became the jaguar and leapt at Peter. Derek took that cue and shifted into the large black wolf that was his other self, flanking Peter. Scott came next, a slightly smaller black wolf that came in from the other side. The Argents kept the high ground, Lydia staying next to Allison.

Peter howled, eyes flashing blood red. “You won’t kill me. I’m an Alpha! What are you all? Well? Nothing!” He howled again and tore his shirt off. He shifted, not into a wolf like Derek or Scott, but a wolf that no man had ever laid eyes on in this century. A wolf whose only record for human eyes were its bones. A wolf as big as a bear with a short snout and horrible red eyes. A thick ridge of fur running down his spine.

Chris’ eyes widened. “Dire-wolf,” He whispered. Allison looked at her father. There was fear in her eyes. He managed a smile. “It’s all right.”

She nodded and returned her focus on the job at hand.

Stiles was thrown clear, but he scrambled back to his feet and went after Peter again. Derek went for Peter’s Achilles tendon while Scott attacked from the side. The wolves worked in tandem, but Stiles wasn’t in sync. He had only his instincts to guide him. Jaguars weren’t pack animals after all. To win this, however, they needed to work as a team. They needed Stiles to operate on more than instinct.

Peter managed to get hold of Scott, grabbing the much smaller wolf by the neck and tossing him into a support beam. He didn’t get back up.

Stiles roared. The human side came to the forefront. _Scott!_

Derek barked at Stiles. Stiles turned toward him and snarled. _Stiles, pull it together!_

_Derek?_

_I’m going to hamstring him, I need you to distract him from the front._

_Okay._ Stiles spun away from Scott and climbed up a few crates to get the high ground, and from there he jumped onto Peter’s back, clinging on with his teeth while shredding with his claws. Peter howled. Stiles wanted to go for his throat, but he waited. _Patience_. The monster would be easier to take down if it was lame.

Derek took the window Stiles gave him and tore into Peter’s hind legs viciously, cutting the tendons in one leg and then the other. It would heal, an Alpha could heal more rapidly than other werewolves, but it gave them time. When Peter collapsed, Stiles went for his throat. Peter began to shift back, and the Argents took their opportunity. Allison pinned him to the floor with four well placed crossbow bolts. Chris fired three wolfsbane laced rounds through Peter’s skull.

Derek went to Scott, he was breathing regularly and slowly stumbled to his feet. Derek and Scott changed back and came to stand over Peter. He was still breathing, barely. Stiles hadn’t been kidding about the man’s seeming invincibility.

“Derek,” Peter gurgled.

“What?”

Peter choked. “I—just.” Blood bubbled up from his lips. “Just—wanted—power.”

“That’s the worst reason a person can have to do anything,” Derek replied. “And you killed so many people. Hurt so many people.”

“I’m—sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

The wolfsbane was taking full effect now, halting Peter’s regeneration.

Stiles still hadn’t changed back. He sat down and watched as Peter succumbed at last to his wounds. The nightmare that had haunted him for so long expired in front of his eyes. The bond that had connected them these past years disappeared and Stiles roared. The animal took control and he ran, breaking free of the ash circle and disappearing into the dark.

“Stiles!” Derek shouted.

“We have to go after him,” Deaton said. “The alpha tether is broken, I don’t know what he’ll do now.”

“How do you intend to track something that moves that fast?” Chris asked.

Derek grabbed his pants, pulling them on and retrieving his phone. He got onto the GPS tracking service for the anklet that was still locked tight around Stiles’ ankle. “Modern technology is amazing,” he said. “We can follow him. Let’s go.”

_I just hope we find him before he hurts anyone._

***

The GPS took them across the Hudson and into Manhattan. Derek realized where Stiles was headed.

“Central Park, he’s going to Central Park.”

“Well, we can cut him off then,” Chris said from the front seat of their rented van. “Don’t worry we’ll catch up.”

In the back seat, Lydia was quiet. She was afraid. Peter was finally gone, but Stiles…he was her family. She didn’t know what she would do without him. “He’s going to be okay? Isn’t he?” she asked.

Deaton looked at her. “Stiles will be fine. He’s a strong kid. Don’t worry.”

Allison took Lydia’s hand. “I’m sure Deaton is right, Lydia. He’ll be okay.”

“He better. He still hasn’t tried on that last outfit, and he promised he would.”

Allison smiled. “I’m sure he will.”

“I put the bag in the back, in case he ruined his other clothes.”

“That’s so thoughtful.”

Lydia nodded. “He’s always leaving his clothes lying around. Forgetting about them. He doesn’t think before he does things. He’ll plan and plan and then just—do whatever.”

Derek was with Lydia on that complaint.

“We leave the weapons in the car,” Chris said. “Let’s try not to attract attention from the cops.”

Derek certainly didn’t want any attention from the NYPD. He was trying to keep his job after all. His phone rang.. He picked it up, “Hale.”

“Sheriff Stilinski. You have news for me?”

“You woke me up to ask me that? I said I would call, sir.” Derek looked at Chris.

“I wanted you to know I’m getting on a plane in about ten minutes. I’ll be in New York in the morning.”

“I can pick you up, no reason you should have to take a cab.” Derek replied.

“Do you have any information about my son?”

“I—I should have something for you by the time you land.”

“Good. I’ll text you flight number. See you soon.”

“Sure thing, Sheriff.” Derek hung up. “Stiles’ father will be here in the morning. We need to hurry.”

“Stiles’ dad is coming here?” Scott asked. “Seriously? We are so screwed.”

“Yup,” Derek said. “Chris, you should drive faster.”

“On it.”

***

The jaguar/Stiles slipped soundlessly into the park and climbed into the first large tree he came across. The place felt familiar. He was certain that any moment now, he should hear the howl of a wolf. He chirped and settled down onto a wide branch. He felt strange. Sad. Where was the wolf? The wolf should be here. The wolf was here before.

Why wasn’t the wolf here?

The wolf. _Derek._

He was near sleep when he picked up the sound he longed to hear, the clear haunting howl of the wolf. _Derek._ He pushed himself up and walked along the branch, leaping out of the tree and running toward the sound. _That’s Derek. Derek is calling me._

And then he heard another howl join that one. _Scott._

“Stiles!” _Lydia._ “Stiles, come back! Please!”

There were more howls, and more shouts. His friends— _his family_ —they were calling him back. He followed the calls to an intersection of roads. A small bridge created a tunnel and in front of the bridge…Derek and Lydia, Scott, the Argents and Deaton. To the jaguar’s eyes, they were very different. He could see the wolf inside Derek and the one inside Scott. He could see the silver glow of Lydia’s power and the green fire of nature inside Deaton.

There was steel at the core of Chris Argent, like a sword. He took notice of Allison last. There was something…strange. There was the sword of a hunter but…he swore that in the deepest shadow he saw the outline of a wolf.

“Stiles!” Lydia cried.

He stopped just out of reach and sat down. He chirped.

“Stiles, you can change back now, Peter’s dead,” Derek said. “It’s all right.”

“Come on, Stiles. You’re dad is on his way. You can’t meet him like this,” Scott said.

“You still have to try on that last outfit I got you,” Lydia added. “You’ll love it, trust me.”

Stiles’ whiskers twitched. He stepped forward until he was just inches from them. Lydia reached out and touched him.

“Come back.”

Scott touched him next. “Come on, Stiles.”

Stiles was trying, but he couldn’t seem to reach the feeling he’d had the last time he’d done so. And then Derek knelt down in front of him and without a trace of embarrassment, kissed his forehead.

“Come back.”

He felt his muscles cramp and his bones creak. His stomach heaved and he fell forward into Derek’s arms, human again.

There were sighs of relief all around. Chris came over with a blanket he’d probably had in his bag and handed it to Derek, who wrapped up Stiles.

“Let’s get back then,” Deaton said. “I’m sure Stiles will want to get cleaned up before his father gets here.”

“Yeah. Somehow I think naked and bloody is not how my dad wants to see me.” _Dad._ Stiles felt a pang in his chest. He clenched his hands tight.

“Don’t worry,” Derek said. “It’s going to be all right.”

Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes. He didn’t really want to move. He felt safe in Derek’s arms. Safe and warm and… _loved._

Derek got to his feet, setting Stiles upright. “We’ll order pizza.”

“Murder, mayhem and then pizza.” Stiles shook his head. “Awesome.”

 _Now I just have to survive reuniting with my dad, going back to Beacon Hills, learning the ropes of this whole were-jaguar thing, high school and—not seeing Derek every day._ Stiles shivered and Derek put an arm around him instinctively.

_I don’t want to leave him._

***

One shower, half a pizza, and a change of clothes later Stiles fell asleep on the couch clutching a pillow. He was dreaming, Derek noted, muttering in his sleep.

“You’re dirty…” Stiles laughed and then turned over, clutching the pillow tighter.

Derek laughed and shook his head. _This kid._ Derek sighed. _I can’t believe I’m falling for this kid._ He sighed again. _His dad is going to kill me._

“Time to pick up the sheriff,” he said aloud. The Argents and Deaton had decided to clear out, heading back to Beacon Hills. Scott was still here though. He was part of the story Derek had come up with to explain things.

He looked at Scott, still awake and playing a game of cards with Lydia. “I’ll be back soon. Keep an eye on things.”

“Of course,” Scott said.

Derek nodded and headed out. For some reason, he was feeling more apprehensive _now_ than he had before going after Peter. _Everything will be fine. Just stick to the story._

_Stick to the story._


	11. Reunions and Departures

The airport wasn’t very busy this early in the morning. It had started to rain, dampening the typical exhaust smell of the city. Derek waited outside the main terminal next to his car, wearing his badge on his belt to keep the security folks from asking him to move. Stiles had his mother’s coloring, but his father’s features. The same long fingered hands and lanky frame. The sheriff was out of uniform for one of the few times Derek could recall. Jeans, a Beacon Hills PD t-shirt and a worn brown leather bomber jacket.

Father and son had similar sense of fashion, that’s for sure.

“So, what’s going on, Derek?” Sheriff Stilinski asked. “Where’s my son?”

“I have him at my apartment, along with Lydia Martin. They’re both safe. When I left Stiles was sleeping.”

Derek could see the breath catch in John’s throat.

“Take me to my son.”

Derek nodded got in the car. _Stick to the story and everything will be fine._ He texted Scott to let him know they were on the way. _This is going to be interesting._

***

Scott woke Stiles up as gently as he could. “Hey, your dad will be here soon.”

Stiles sat up and yawned. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles felt his heart beat quicken. “What do I say to him?”

“You’ll figure it out.” Scott squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

Stiles got up and walked over to the kitchen table where Lydia was playing solitaire. “So I guess we’re going home soon then.”

She looked up at him and he could tell she’d been crying. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently.

“What am I supposed to tell my parents?” she wondered aloud. “What are we supposed to tell people? Derek gave us a story. We’re supposed to tell people that Peter kidnapped us, kept us hostage this whole time but…what do I say after that? How do I explain why I jump at shadows? Or why I keep a jar of ashes nearby? How do I explain why I’m afraid of the rain?”

“I won’t let you go through it alone,” Stiles promised. “We’re family and we’ll get through it together. I promise.”

She swallowed. “I’ll be there for you too.”

Scott’s phone buzzed. “They’re downstairs,” he said after glancing at the screen.

Stiles straightened. “I guess it’s time then.” He walked over to the door and waited there, arms around himself, hands shaking. The minutes ticked by so slowly. He could hear every beat of his heart pounding in his skull. His palms sweat and his scalp itched.

The lock rattled and the door opened. Derek came in first and immediately stepped aside for Stiles’ dad.

Stiles stood still for half a breath and then lost all semblance of composure as he rushed headlong into his dad’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Dad!”

“Stiles!”

Derek wiped the tears away that rolled down his cheeks watching Stiles cling to his dad. Every worry melted away the moment Stiles was in his father’s arms.

“I missed you so much,” Stiles said. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come home.”

John rubbed his son’s back and shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I missed you too.  I—I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Derek turned away and Scott caught his gaze. Scott raised his eyebrows.

_You could come with us._

Derek shook his head and moved into the kitchen area with Scott and Lydia to give father and son some privacy. Lydia looked Derek for a moment and then took his hand. Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Stiles isn’t the type to stray.” She smiled.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do.” She let go of his hand.

A bit later Stiles and John joined everyone at the kitchen table. The sheriff went to Lydia and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you all right?”

She smiled. “I’m okay.”

“I’m going to call your parents and let them know. We’ll fly out the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Lydia nodded.

“You want to talk to them?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t we go out to the hall?” John looked at Stiles. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.”

John and Lydia went out into the hall and Stiles turned to Derek. “Uh, could you remove the GPS thing now? Before my dad notices it?”

“You promise not to go running off?”

Stiles gave him a look. “And break my dad’s heart? I’m not evil.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Fine.” He pulled out the key and removed the anklet, stuffing it into his pocket. “Try to behave yourself.”

“I’ll try,” Stiles deadpanned. He perked his ears at a sharp sound. Lydia was crying—happy tears he thought. He was still feeling a bit high from the endorphins of his own reunion. “I make no guarantees.”

Scott sighed. “Didn’t you say that exact thing right before we ended up in Wal-mart with ten pounds of flour—”

“I don’t think so,” Stiles shook his head with a frown.

“I don’t even want to know.” Derek shook his head. “I—I don’t want to know.”

Stiles grinned and then looked at Derek, and the smile slipped away. “I’m going home.”

“Yeah,” Derek said.

Stiles took a breath and started to reach out for Derek, and then the front door opened and his hand dropped back down to his side.

Lydia was wiping tears away from her eyes. Stiles walked away from the table and hugged Lydia. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I just—you know.”

“I know.” Stiles smoothed her hair. “You’ll see them really soon though.”

John watched his son comfort Lydia with a wistful expression. _He’s not the same kid anymore. I missed so much._ John shook his head. _I’ll make up for it. I’ll make for everything he’s been through._

He glanced up and saw Derek looking at Stiles. It was longing, and uncertainty and heartbreak all in one. John frowned and shook his head. _They barely know each other._

“I’ll arrange the tickets,” John said after a moment. “Is there anything that needs to be settled with the local police, Derek?”

“Oh, no. With the perpetrator dead there’s no reason for the kids to stick around. I’ve got all the paperwork covered,” Derek said.

“Great. You kids looked exhausted. Get some sleep.”

Stiles wasn’t going to argue with that. He gave his dad a hug and then fell into bed. He’d worry about… _everything_ , after he had some sleep.  

***

Derek went to the airport with everyone. He wasn’t allowed to go past the security point with a ticket though, so it was there that he said his goodbyes. He gave Scott a quick hug, and was surprised when Lydia gave him a kiss on the cheek and a quick embrace.

He shook John’s hand and then it was just him and Stiles.

“So…I guess this is goodbye until you come to see your family at Christmas,” Stiles said, hands in pockets and eyes on the floor.

“I guess so.”

Stiles nodded. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

“Well—until Christmas.” Stiles gave him an awkward hug and then hurried off after his dad.

Derek watched them until they were through the gate and then started to walk out of the terminal when he noticed something in his pocket. He pulled it out and sniffed the small fold of paper. It smelled like Lydia.

 _Don’t be stupid. You know you love him._ _It’s not like Beacon Hills doesn’t have a police department Mr. Bigshot New York detective._

_Lydia_

Derek rolled his eyes. _That girl._ He swallowed. As much as he wanted to run to the ticket counter and get on the next flight, he knew that wasn’t the responsible thing to do. There were still some things here that had to be taken care of. Stiles would wait for him, for a little bit anyway.

Stiles, from the opposite end of the security line, looked back and watched Derek walk away. _This isn't goodbye._

This isn't goodbye.

 

***

Derek burned Peter’s body and scattered the ashes in the Hudson. He made many phone calls and arrangements, all the while keeping track of a date circled on his calendar in red. The week before, he packed a bag and wrapped a white garment box in bright red paper. He locked up his apartment and packed up his car.

As he drove out of the city, he felt like weight was being lifted from him.

_I’m coming home._

_***  
_

“Happy birthday,” John said, knocking on his son’s door. “I have doughnuts.”

Stiles groaned as he got out of bed. “I love doughnuts—but why do we have to celebrate so early?”

“Hey, I missed the last two, I’m trying to make up for it.”

There wasn’t anything Stiles could say to that. His heart twinged and he got out of bed. “Okay Captain Guilt-Trip. Lead me to the promised land of doughnuts and we shall celebrate all the hours of this day, my birthday.”

John smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

Stiles pulled a shirt on and followed his dad downstairs where Scott was already waiting with an enormous box of assorted doughnuts.

“You know you only get doughnuts today because it’s my birthday, right, Dad?” Stiles quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you, Dr. Stiles.”

“So, Scott. What have you planned for this the most important birthday of my life until I turn twenty-one?”

Scott smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

“Oh goodie.” Stiles snagged a doughnut. “I _love_ surprises.”

“Lydia is coming over later,” Scott said, taking a doughnut. “She said something about doughnuts being evil. Tonight though we’re being hosted by the Hales but until then…” Scott pulled a bright red envelope from his pocket. “Happy birthday.”

Stiles took the card with a suspicious look and opened it up. There was a piece of cardstock inside with a picture of the Beacon Hills High mascot on it. “What’s this?”

“Lydia thought a birthday scavenger hunt would be fun,” Scott said.

“Yay.” Stiles wrinkled his nose and tried to smile. “Fun.” He ate his doughnut. “We can take the box with us, right?”

His dad grabbed a jelly doughnut. “Now you can have the box.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys. “Happy birthday.”

“These, these are the keys to the Jeep.”

“Yeah, well, I only restored it so you’d have something to drive. You got your license and all, it’s not like I can keep here all the time and you’ll need it for school.”

Stiles hugged his dad. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, go have fun. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay…I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too.”

Stiles took the box and the keys and headed out after Scott. He’d gotten into the habit of saying I love you as often as he could. He still couldn’t shake the fear that he could be taken away. He didn’t want to have regrets.

Scott and Stiles climbed into the Jeep and set off for the high school. Stiles had been taking placement tests all last week to see if he could continue on. The results weren’t back yet, but he was hopeful.

“School mascot, maybe the next clue is in the lacrosse field?” Stiles looked at Scott sidelong. His friend shrugged. “Some help you are.”

“Sorry, that would ruin the game.”

“I heard you went on a date with Allison,” Stiles said, eyes narrowing. “Her dad know that?”

Scott flushed. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“Right, sure he doesn’t.” Stiles gave him a look. “If you give me a hint, then I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Scott frowned. “That’s blackmail.”

“And?”

“Fine, the clue is in the bleachers.”

“See, how hard was that?” Stiles started up the car. “This scavenger hunt thing might be fun after all.”

“Uh huh.” Scott ate another doughnut. “Cheater.”

Stiles grinned.  “It’s just another way of playing. You’re just mad because last full moon I totally beat you to that deer.”

“You cheated then too.”

“It’s not my fault my predator is better than yours.”

“That is so not true.”

“Oh yeah, wolf boy?”

The argued congenially until they reached the high school.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Scott said. “Come back with the next clue.”

“All right. I’ll be right back.” Stiles got out of the Jeep and started for the lacrosse field.

Scott smiled. Nearly two months of planning had gone into this. _Stiles is going to be so surprised._

 


	12. Happy Birthday

Stiles was feeling a bit silly going on a scavenger hunt for his eighteenth birthday, but his dad and his friends had been trying so damn hard to give back the years he’d lost—he couldn’t say no. Coming back to Beacon Hills had been just as awkward as he had thought it would be. People stared at him a lot. Him and Lydia. They got the pity stares and the sad stares. There were whispers and rumors and all sorts of bull shit. Stiles had gotten into more than one fight over those rumors.

He was trying not to get pissed off when people would say stupid shit about Lydia or him, or Jackson but it was hard. Jackson had gotten into fights too, but Lydia seemed above all that. She settled for cutting remarks. Stiles tried to take that road, but it wasn’t always easy. He searched the bleachers and eventually found another red envelope, taped to a can of spray paint.

He opened the envelope.

_Put a smile on the mascot before you continue on._

Stiles hefted the can. Vandalism on his birthday? Why not. He walked over to the wall mural of the Beacon Hill’s Titan and shook up the can. It was yellow. Lydia must have said something to Scott. He had his arm out to start when—

“Returning to delinquency? I thought you were going to behave yourself.”

Stiles turned around, the can falling from his hand. “Derek.”

Derek smiled. He held a large red wrapped box in his hands. “Happy birthday, Stiles.”

“You came all the way here just for my birthday?”

Derek shook his head. “Not exactly. Open this and then I’ll explain.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose and took the gift, unwrapping it with the ferocity of his alter ego to reveal a white garment box. He could smell leather. He pulled the box open and pushed away the tissue paper. Red leather. From the box he pulled out a red leather jacket—with a hood.

“This…is awesome.” He smiled. “Really. How did you know?”

“Lydia.” Derek grinned. “Put it on.”

Stiles pulled the jacket on. “This is—like the nicest thing I’ve ever owned.”

“Well, that’s not really surprising.” Derek took the empty box and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. “You aren’t really a fashionable person.”

“You talk to Lydia too much.”

Derek shrugged. “So—I got a new job.” He pulled a black wallet from his pocket and flipped it open. “What do you think.”

“Deputy Sheriff—Beacon Hills? You moved back? Why?” Stiles couldn’t believe it.

“Why do you think, stupid?” Derek swallowed. “I’m not going to deny what I feel anymore. You’re eighteen and…I want to spend as much time with you as I can.” He put his arms on Stiles shoulders and pulled him close. “I might be in love with you, Stiles.”

Stiles gulped. “I—I might be in love with you too.”

Derek smiled and pulled Stiles in for a kiss. Their first proper kiss if Stiles didn’t count the one that took place in his brain. Although he had been counting it… His dreams had really taken on a mind of their own, extending that kiss into something a bit more—heated.

Derek bit down on Stiles’ lower lip with a growl, his hand pressing into Stiles’ lower back, keeping Stiles in place while he ran his other hand through Stiles hair. Stiles growled right back, clutching at Derek’s back.

Derek was certain if they continued things were going to get a bit too naked for public consumption and he broke away. Stiles whined.

“But…”

“Public place, Stiles.”

He shrugged. “So you’re really sticking around, really?”

“Really,” Derek smiled. “I guess—I missed being near my family. My sisters are going to freak out.”

“And you can keep an eye on Scott while he pursues Allison,” Stiles added.

“True.”

“So—what’s my next clue in the scavenger hunt then?” Stiles asked.

“Well, you have to catch me to find out,” Derek replied.

“Huh?”

Derek took off running towards the woods just beyond the lacrosse field. Stiles shook his head and grinned, taking off after him. He chased Derek up toward the bluff, where his scent seemed to just—stop. Confused, Stiles doubled back a ways to see if Derek had done the same.

Which was when Derek ambushed him, tackling him to the ground with a smile. “Got you.”

“That was not fair,” Stiles said, not really unhappy about being pinned beneath Derek. “It’s my birthday, you’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“I intend to be.” Derek kissed him. “This is much less public. Don’t you think?”

Stiles growled and kissed Derek back. Two months apart had just made Stiles all the more certain of his feelings. They hadn’t faded, they hadn’t gone away—if anything they’d gotten stronger. It wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t a fling. _I’m in love._ Stiles’ dad used to tell him that he knew he loved Stiles’ mom about five minutes after they met.

It had taken Stiles a bit longer than that, but he was going to trust his instincts, and those of the predator inside him.

Wresting on the ground, gripping each other’s hair, running hands under shirts to feel the smooth skin underneath. Kisses tempered with teeth that started with lips and then Derek began to work his way down Stiles’ neck. Stiles felt himself getting harder, and he had no doubt Derek could feel it too, pressed so intimately against him.

Derek didn’t miss a beat, one hand trailing down to unzip Stiles’ fly before he reached in and took hold of Stiles’ dick.

“You’re so easy to excite,” Derek whispered.

“You’re hot,” Stiles replied. “What did you expect?”

“Well, let me give you another birthday present then.” Derek slid down and licked along the length of the shaft from base to tip.

Stiles would have said something, except it seemed his tongue had stopped working.

“Looks like I know how to shut you up…” Derek smiled and licked again, from top to bottom this time before taking the head between his lips and twirling his tongue around it. Stiles shuddered as Derek took his full length into his mouth, lips and tongue going to work. Stiles hips bucked and Derek pushed them down, holding Stiles in place as he continued to move up and down.

It didn’t take long and Derek pulled off Stiles’ spent dick licking his lips and smiling. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” He kissed Stiles. “You have no idea.”

Stiles gulped, tasting himself on Derek’s lips. “I have an idea.”

“Come on then, we have to continue the scavenger hunt,” Derek pulled Stiles to his feet and helped him put his pants back into order.

“But—what about you?” Stiles could see the outline of Derek’s half-hard dick against his jeans.

“I can wait,” Derek replied.

“I swear to god if you think we have to have coffee dates or something before you’ll fuck me I—I think after New York we’re past that stage. Right? You’ve been in my head. I—I want you. I don’t want to wait.”

Derek kissed him, more gently this time. “Just trust me.”

Stiles sighed. “All right.”

“Come on then. Scott’s probably getting worried.” Derek pulled out a red envelope from his coat and handed it over. “Your next clue.”

Stiles shook his head. “Does my face give away that I just got a blow job in the woods?”

“No,” Derek shook his head and the pulled a leaf from Stiles’ hair. “There.”

Stiles opened the envelope as they walked back to the school parking lot. “Looks like we’re headed for Scott’s house.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been there,” Derek said.

“How long have you been in town anyway?” Stiles asked.

“A couple days,” he admitted. “Believe me, I was all ready to ruin this whole birthday surprise thing but Lydia is pretty scary when she wants to be.”

Stiles snorted. “Yeah. You don’t want to be on that girl’s bad side. Ever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Derek waved at Scott as they approached. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Scott leaned out of the car. “You guys took your time.” He raised his eyebrows. “And you smell like the woods. And sex.”

Stiles blushed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Come on, we have to go to your house.”

Scott rolled his eyes and climbed in the back seat. “I swear to god I better not find you guys making out in a shadowy corner every time we stop.”

“I’m not making that promise,” Derek replied, getting into the passenger’s seat.

Stiles imagination went along for that ride for a moment. He shook himself out of it and started up the car. “All right then. Let’s go.”

_Scavenger hunts are a lot different from when I was a little._

***

Scott’s mom, Melissa, was there when they arrived. She had her dark curly hair pulled back and was dressed in normal clothes rather than the hospital scrubs she wore to work.

“Are you off today, Mrs. McCall?” Stile asked.

“I am,” she said. “Happy birthday, Stiles.” She hugged him. “Derek, it’s good to see you.”

“Mrs. McCall.” Derek smiled. “It’s good to see you too.”

Melissa had taken some time to come to terms with her son, and the Hales, being werewolves but you wouldn’t find a more supportive mother now. She and Talia got together for lunch every other week or so.

“Do I get a hint about the next piece of the scavenger hunt?” Stiles asked.

Melissa smiled. “That wouldn’t be any fun. Don’t destroy the house while you search, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The scavenger hunt continued with a red envelope taped to the underside to the kitchen table—Stiles favorite place in just about any house.

“How many of these envelopes are there?” He asked as he tore it open.

“Lydia’s the only one who knows for certain.”

Stiles pulled the next clue out of the envelope.

_Rent a movie._

“Seriously, she better not have put a clue on _The Notebook._ ” Stiles had watched that movie more times than he cared to count. He wasn’t sure why a girl that smart watched a movie like that so many times, but he wasn’t going to argue.

“I’m supposed to stay here,” Scott said. “But I’ll see you at the part later.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? So it’s just me and Derek then?”

“Try to sound more disappointed,” Scott said with a grin. “I’ll see you later.”

“All right, we’re off to the video store.” Stiles and Derek walked out of the house. “So, how come you weren’t at the end of the scavenger hunt? I mean—you are like the best birthday present. If a person could be a present because obviously slavery is wrong and—”

Derek kissed him. “Mostly because I didn’t want to wait that long. Don’t worry though. There’s something suitably amazing waiting for you.”

“Awesome.”

Derek leaned close, brushing his lips against Stiles’ ear. “There might even be handcuffs.”

Stiles went very red. “You’re a bad man.”

“I know.”

_This scavenger hunt is going to kill me._

***

Three envelopes, a DVD and a dozen doughnuts later Stiles and Derek ended up at a restaurant. Stiles checked his watch. “It’s time for lunch. Awesome.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come on, birthday boy.” Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles and walked him into the restaurant. “Lunch and then it’s off to the next clue.”

“You mean this isn’t the end?” Stiles asked.

“Not quite.”

He groaned. “Does my birthday have to be so much fun? Can’t you and I just go to a hotel room and—” He stopped talking when they reached the host station. “Danny, I didn’t know you worked here.”

Danny wasn’t a friend exactly, but he played on the lacrosse team with Scott and Stiles had seen him a few times out at the clubs.

“Stiles, this your boyfriend?” Danny eyed Derek appreciatively.

“Yup,” Derek replied. “Table for two, reservation under Hale.”

Danny glanced down the register. “Got you.” He grabbed two menus. “Just follow me.”

There was a wrapped box waiting at the table. Stiles looked at Derek. “More presents?”

“It is your birthday.”

Stiles sat down. “Can I open it?”

“If you want to.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and opened the box. “Hey. My laptop.” He smiled. “I almost forgot about Lola.”

“I did promise to give it back when you started listening to me.”

“I started listening to you?”

“I’ll take it back, you know.”

Stiles clutched Lola to his chest and shook his head. “I’ll be good.” He considered that statement. “Well, I’ll try.”

Derek chuckled. “Yeah. Try.”

Lunch passed with a mixture of innuendo and snark. Derek paid.

“So is that the end of the scavenger hunt then?” Stiles asked.

“Well, I’m supposed to occupy you until the party tonight.” Derek gave him a heated look. “I wonder how I’ll do that?”

“Hey, you’re supposed to wait an hour after eating to engage in activities.”

“You’re thinking of swimming. I wasn’t planning on swimming.” Derek pointed out his Camaro in the restaurant parking lot. “The party starts at seven so we’ve got at least five hours to kill.”

Stiles blinked. “Five hours is a long time.”

“We have a movie to watch and I’d love for you to see my new apartment. The Jeep will be safe here.”

“All right. Sure.” Stiles tried to play it cool, when in fact a monsoon of butterflies had taken residence in his stomach.

***

It turned out neither one of them like the movie very much, so Derek got out a chessboard. Stiles beat him soundly.

“So—you’ve plaid chess before,” Derek raised his eyebrows.

Stiles shrugged. “My dad taught me to play. Lydia and I would play sometimes, but I never could beat her. She’s going to do something amazing with her life. She’s just that kind of person.”

“You’re going to do something amazing too,” Derek said. “I know it.”

“I won’t even graduate with the rest of my friends. I was kind of a screw up before I ran into Peter. “

“You did the best you could.” Derek reached across the table and took Stiles’ hand. “All the choices you had to make to survive—you shouldn’t regret them. You survived.”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, and you saved me.”

“You saved yourself, I was just back-up.” Derek smiled. “I don’t want to be the knight in shining armor rescuing the damsel. That’s not what this is. I want us to be partners. You save me, I save you—we work together.”

Stiles blushed. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’ve said plenty of nice things to you.”

“Uh huh.”

“Now you’re just trying to be contrary.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “I really don’t.”

“I have handcuffs you know.”

“I remember.” Stiles grinned. “You’ll have to catch me first though.” Stiles got to his feet. “Wolf versus jaguar?”

“That’s a game I think I can win.”

“You can try.”

***

Derek was starting to think he would spend most of his life chasing after Stiles. He didn’t mind that though, if he was going to spend his life with someone, it had to be someone who would challenge him. Someone who would want to chase—and be chased. Stiles was a couple hundred yards ahead of him.

Derek took a shortcut to cut him off, drawing close and pouncing. Stiles rolled out of the way but crashed into the forest floor. He laughed. “That’s four to two in your favor,” he said. “I admit, you know the area better than I do.”

Derek smiled and moved in for a kiss. “I’m sure it would come out a bit differently if we shifted.”

“I don’t want to lose anymore clothes. I never seem to find them where I left them.” Stiles kissed him back.

“Can we just stay here?” Derek asked, running a hand through Stiles’ hair. “Just fall asleep in the forest and…” He ran a hand over Stiles’ stomach.

“I’m pretty sure your mother would kill us. Besides, I don’t want to end with splinters in my ass.”

“Spoilsport. Fine.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” Stiles looked into Derek’s eyes. “I _really_ want to.”

“I’ve seen your porn collection, I’m well aware.”

“You broke into my laptop?”

“To be fair, your password was _way_ too easy to crack.”

Stiles wasn’t really angry, more embarrassed than anything. “I guess—did you look at everything?”

Derek stroked Stiles’ hair. “You’re a good person, Stiles.”

He flushed. “Come on, we should get cleaned up and head to your mom’s house. Lydia will be pissed if we’re late to the party.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Derek got up and pulled Stiles to his feet. “You think your dad will notice if you don’t come home until tomorrow?”

“I think my friends have planned everything to include an explanation for that eventuality.”

Derek nodded. “They’ve been very accommodating.”

 _They want me to be happy, just as much as I want them to be happy._ Stiles smiled. _I’m lucky to have them_.

“Come on, we’ll clean up at my place and then drive over to my mom’s.”

“And after the party?” Stiles glanced at Derek, raising his eyebrow.

“Well, I’ve still got those handcuffs and the apartment does need to be tested for soundproofing.”

Stiles swallowed, hard. “You think I’m a screamer?”

“There’s no _think_ , about it.” Derek kissed him. “Let’s go.”

Stiles heart thudded. _The after party might be too much for me._

***

“Mrs. Hale,” Stiles greeted Derek’s mother warmly. The tall dark haired woman was the spitting image of Allison, years older, but still. Stiles wasn’t sure how Chris had kept _that_ secret for as long as he had. He’d seen pictures of Allison’s “mom”, they didn’t look anything alike. He spotted Allison chatting with her half-sisters, Laura, Cora and Maria, by the dining room table which was full of food.

Mostly meat type food, but there was a vegetable platter and a selection of chips as well. Stiles stomach growled. A consequence of running around in the woods for hours, he had no doubt.

“Stiles.” She hugged him warmly. “Derek.” She hugged her son. “There will be cake, as soon as your dad gets here with the cake,” she said to Stiles. “Lydia and Jackson are in the living room setting up the drinks. Scott and his mother got here just a little bit ago and your father was helping Isaac with the grill.”

Isaac Lahey was an adopted member of the Hale family pack. He’d become a werewolf about six months ago when a rogue Alpha came through town and bit a handful of teenagers. There were a couple others, but Stiles hadn’t met them yet.

“The whole gang,” Stiles remarked.

“Of course.” Talia smiled.

“Thanks for everything, really.” Stiles smiled. “You guys have made coming back a lot easier.”

“That’s what family is for, Stiles.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Go have fun. Derek, a moment?”

Stiles went off to join the others in the living room while Derek stayed behind with his mother.

“Mom?” Derek looked at her.

“So, that’s who your wolf chose.” She looked him in the eyes. “And your heart.”

Derek swallowed. “Yes. He is.”

“It can be hard, denying that part of ourselves. I’m glad you found someone to run with.” She hugged him. “I hope your sisters are that lucky.”

“One of them may have already found that person.” He glanced at Allison. “Has she—shifted?”

“No. The potential is there. Someday.”

Derek smiled. “When she needs it, she’ll have it.”

“I’m glad you two are getting closer.”

“Yeah, well I couldn’t let the girls smother her, could I? Is Chris here?”

“No. He had to take care of a family problem.” She frowned. “Derek, would you be upset if I told you I—I think Chris will move in with me?”

“I just want you to be happy, Mom.” Derek kissed his mother on the cheek. “That’s all.”

She put a hand on his face. “That’s my beautiful boy.” She smiled. “Now, go have fun. I’m sure you have something planned for later, but try to keep the party clean.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He followed after Stiles, watching him argue with Jackson about some television series he’d never seen. He leaned in the doorway to the living room. Stiles was so expressive when he argued. His hands, his face, his whole body moved when he spoke.

Scott slid up next to Derek. “So. He know you rented one of those cabins in the woods?”

“Not yet. It’s a surprise.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You just don’t want anyone walking in on you.”

“Well, duh. I’m sure you’ll find a nice out of the way place when you decide to make a move on my sister.”

Scott blushed. “I swear, I will treat Allison like a princess. You have my word.”

“I know, because if you don’t I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.” Derek smiled.

Scott blanched a bit and swallowed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Derek clapped Scott on the shoulder. “I think it’s time for cake, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Definitely. Cake.” Scott nodded. “I’ll get Stiles’ dad, he has the cake.” Scott slipped away.

Derek couldn’t remember the last his family home had been so full of happy people. The last few reunions had been sparely attended at best since Peter’s attempted arson. The house had been so empty.

“Hey, little brother,” Laura came up next to him. “You sure know how to pick them, don’t you?  You couldn’t pick a wolf, could you? Had to be something off the wall.”

Derek shrugged. “We don’t really choose who we fall in love with Laura. You’ll figure that out when you stop speed-dating with other lawyers.”

She rolled her eyes. “You may have a point.”

“I have to go wish Stiles a happy birthday.” He kissed her on the cheek. “We should go to lunch next week.”

“It’s nice, having you back,” she said.

“I’m glad I came back too.”

Stiles caught Derek’s eyes with a smile that promised trouble.

 _It’s a good thing I know how to swim, or I would be in over my head with this one._ Derek shook his head and joined the party.

***

“Where are we going exactly?” Stiles asked as they left the Hale house behind them.

“I got us a cabin for the night.”

“Wow, really?”

“Yup.” Derek grinned. “I figured we’d want to be out civilization. Since you’re such a screamer.”

“I am not.”

“Uh huh.” Derek just shook his head. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”

Stiles swallowed. He felt hot all over. His palms were sweaty. “You’re a bad man, Derek Hale.”

“I know.”

The cabin was set back into the woods by a couple miles. It was the sort of place that once upon a time, would have made Stiles think of horror movies but—there wasn’t much he was afraid of now. The monster that hand haunted him was dead and the otherworld that had troubled his sight for so long was closed to him. Deaton had done the same for Jackson. They each had the power gained from tangling with Peter, but they didn’t have to fear creepers any more. Stiles followed Derek into the cabin. The heat of summer died away to autumn chill. Derek turned on the lights and started a fire while Stiles stripped off his coat.

The cabin was one room. There was the fireplace on one end, right across from the front door. There was a small kitchen area to the left of the fire and to the right was a huge king size bed set in a wrought iron frame. There were landscape paintings here and there.

Once Derek had a fire started he locked the front door and started to strip. He put his jacket on the coat rack next to the door and took off his shoes. Stiles watched appreciatively as Derek pulled his shirt off.

_Sweet mother of god._

Derek turned and glanced at Stiles. “Why are your clothes not coming off?”

Stiles blinked. “Right.”  Stiles pulled off his shirt and shoes. He felt a bit self conscious in the face of Derek’s physique, but Derek found nothing wanting there. Stiles might have been a bit on the lean side, but his muscles were as distinct and strong as Derek’s. A jaguar was not a wolf after all, the muscles were built in different ways.

As Stiles slipped out of his jeans and walked across the floor, Derek was struck by the mindscape Stiles. Just a flash of liquid grace and confidence as Stiles moved to the bed. Derek thought about what Stiles would be like in a year, or three and his heart beat quickened. He wanted to enjoy these moments with the still awkward Stiles as long as he could. They were precious, because he knew they would fade as Stiles grew into his power.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“Just—you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Stiles flushed and ducked his head, running a hand through his hair. “I—you’re trying to make me nervous.”

“I’m nervous too,” Derek replied. “That’s okay.” He pulled his jeans off and sat down on the bed. “We can just talk. Sleep together. Nothing has to happen here that you don’t want.”

Stiles shook his head, falling onto the bed and kissing Derek. “I want—everything. I’ve wanted you since…well, since you arrested me to be honest. I guess I’ve always had a thing for men with badges.”

“Lucky me.” Derek smiled and pulled Stiles close for a kiss, pressing their bodies together. “I admit I’ve always had a thing for bad boys myself.”

Stiles grinned. “Lucky me.”

Derek kissed him, biting on his lower lip. Stiles returned the nibbling with gusto, running his nails down Derek’s back. Derek growled in response and shifted his weight, bearing Stiles down to the mattress. Stiles’ nails drew hot lines down Derek’s back. He ran his hands through Stiles’ hair, scraping his nails along Stiles’ scalp. Derek moved down from Stiles’ lips to his jaw, drawing his tongue along the scar on Stiles’ neck.

Which was the precise time Derek discovered Stiles could purr. Derek nuzzled Stiles’ neck, and then bit down at the base of Stiles’ neck. He didn’t bite down hard, but he did leave a mark. It wouldn’t last long, Stiles’ healing abilities had begun in earnest once he had accepted his other nature. The mark would fade fast but Derek made it anyway. He left a trail of bite marks from the nape of the neck to the hollow of Stiles’ hip.

“That…” Stiles continued to purr, hips bucking as Derek pulled down Stiles’ boxers. “Marking your territory?”

“Yup.” Derek kissed the inside of Stiles’ thigh and then bit down. Stiles half-hard dick practically leapt to attention at the sensation. Derek smiled and began his trail back up the other side from inner thigh to neck while Stiles moaned and purred, nails drawing sharp lines across whatever part of Derek they could currently reach.

“Derek…for the love of god I need you to fuck me.”

Derek slipped off his own boxers and took pause to reach into the bag he’d left under the bed earlier in the day to grab a bottle of KY. Stiles gulped.

“Damn. So my mental image was close.”

Derek grinned. “Well, I was in your head. I had to be realistic.” Derek got his fingers slick with lube to start. “You sure?”

“I was sure about five minutes ago, now I’m impatient,” Stiles replied glibly.

Derek flipped Stiles onto his stomach, smacking his ass hard enough to leave a mark that faded as quickly as it formed. Gently, he used his lubed fingers to open Stiles’ up, appreciating the muffled groans and the continuous rumble.

“Ready?” He leaned over Stiles, running his other hand down the long line of Stiles’ back.

“Yes.”

Stiles growled as Derek pushed inside him. Derek went slowly at first. Stiles forced himself to relax a few times, gripping the quilt covering the bed and pressing his hips back against Derek.

Derek leaned over him and kissed his back as he slowly rocked himself in and then out again. “You make the most amazing sounds,” Derek said.

“If you go faster, I’ll make more,” Stiles said.

Derek smiled and fulfilled the request, gripping Stiles shoulders and pulling him up to kiss his neck. Stiles reached back, running a hand through Derek’s hair and moving his hips in time to Derek’s thrusts.

Derek could hear Stiles’ breath as it became more labored, his heartbeat quickened as he got closer and closer to the edge. Derek wanted Stiles to come first. He used one hand to hold onto Stiles shoulder and the other he ran down the soft skin of Stiles’ chest to take the shaft of his dick. He ran a thumb over the head and smiled as Stiles’ gasped sharply.

Stiles continued to rock his hips, rubbing himself against Derek’s hand until with a near-feline cry, he came.

“I knew you were a screamer,” Derek whispered hoarsely. Two breaths later, Derek came. He pulled Stiles’ down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Stiles, face pressed to the younger man’s neck. “I love you…”

“I love you too,” Stiles said. “I guess this means cats and dogs everywhere will be disappointed in us.”

“Don’t care,” Derek said. “Stupid rivalry anyhow.” He pulled Stiles closer.

“I agree completely.” Stiles rolled over so he could look Derek in the eyes. “Does this mean I get a free pass on speeding tickets and random vandalism?”

“I don’t know, I think I’ll just have to come up with better punishments than fines and jail time.” Derek stroked Stiles’ face. “Don’t you think?”

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

“I already did.”

Stiles had already been a bit tired from a full day of birthday celebration, safe and sated in Derek’s arms, he fell asleep. Derek watched for a time and then fell asleep himself. He woke once in the night as Stiles thrashed, caught in a nightmare. Derek held him until he settled back down and spent the rest of the night in undisturbed sleep.

***

Derek woke up to the smell of food cooking. He sat up, somewhat confused.

“I’m making eggs,” Stiles said from the cabin kitchen.

“Where did you get eggs?” Derek asked.

“They aren’t actually chicken eggs if that’s what you mean,” Stiles replied. He smiled. “Don’t worry though, their safe to eat.”

Derek blinked.

_I might be in over my head here._

“I guess I’ll handle lunch then. Shall we play who’s the better predator?”

“You bet,” Stiles replied. “This time, I am going to beat you.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“The best birthday _ever._ ”

Derek padded into the kitchen and drew Stiles in for a kiss. “I promise the next one will be even better.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Well, that puts the burden on me to make your birthdays suitably awesome as well.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

“I know you will,” Derek said. “I trust you.”

“Oh good, because you are never getting rid of me.”

“That’s why I have the handcuffs, so you can’t get away.” Derek grinned.

“Does that mean I should buy handcuffs too?”

“No. Only one of us gets handcuffs.” Derek pulled Stiles close. “The one that also has the gun.”

“Then maybe I’ll become a cop too.” Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t think the people of Beacon Hills are suitably prepared for such a thing.”

“You never know, they could surprise you. I could be the best cop ever. I could—”

Derek kissed him, just to shut him up. _Stiles Stilinksi, cop._ That’ll be the day.

_You’ll see Derek._

_I guess I will._


End file.
